Just a little blood, love
by thereisnotomorrow
Summary: Embry is still adapting to her new life, with mental scars that just won't fade away. When a man known as the bloody painter appears in her life with the goal to kill her, will he accomplish what he set out to do, or will Embry and the man bond over their surprising similarities? Rated M for future mature romance and violence/gore Bloody Painter x OC
1. Teaser

**Hey there, thank you for checking out my story! I have recently got into creepypasta again and wanted to write something about it, so here we go! If you review (pretty please!) comment who you think this is about! Please enjoy :)**

A young man walked down the street, his long legs stretching across the cold pavement beneath him, dim streetlights brushing over him as he walked. It was early for him to be roaming this lifeless area, but the winter brought the looming darkness early, the darkness that he thrived in. When two pale hands reached out to pull a blue jacket around his shivering form, the boy began to hate the biting cold the winter also brought. The houses he passed were crumbling and almost… dead. All lights were off. People were hiding their existence, almost as though the darkness couldn't be disturbed. A smile appeared on the man's face as he thought this. A slamming of a door sounded, and the man jumped and stopped dead, pale blue eyes flickering up, startled.

A girl was leaving one of the houses. She can't have been much older than him. A black hoodie adorned her upper body and faded blue jeans her legs. In her hands was a phone, clearly revealing the headphones that were in her ears, most likely blocking out the sounds of the world around her. The man watched with curious eyes; she hadn't noticed him. He watched as she lifted a flowerpot by the door then grab a key from underneath it to lock the door behind her. He watched as she pulled the hood up around her face. He watched as she slowly lifted her head, almost looking right at him. He shrunk back into the shadows, silent as a cat, and followed her with his eyes as she crossed the road and made off into the streets. He remained unseen.

The man began to walk again, his feet falling heavily now at a steady rate. Clouds began to sweep into the sky, grey patches on a dull black, bleak and intimidating. A small sigh escaped his dry lips now as he turned a corner down an unlit path, which led to the entrance to the woods. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot now as he journeyed out, weaving between trees and picking his way over twisting roots. Finally he reached his destination.

There lay in front of him a small cabin. Once it must have been beautiful, but now it had perished in isolation, falling victim to the harsh rain and wind and neglect. One wall seemed ready to cave in; a push with a little force behind it would surely have that in pieces on the floor. The door was hanging off its hinges which were old and rusted, and the door itself seemed to be decaying and covered in moss. The windows were blacked out from dirt and dust, the roof was barely standing, but it was still shelter. The man pushed the swinging door slightly out of his way and walked through the doorway, knowing his way around even without light. This place was his home, a roof over his head, privacy, and place to be alone. Not that he was often around people, but having somewhere to call his was comforting. As he walked towards the uninviting living room he grabbed a candle from somewhere on his right, lighting it with a match he must have grabbed too.

"Fuck," he whispered, looking at his burnt fingers. The match hadn't gone out when he had shaken it, but he hadn't noticed. He dropped the now charred match onto the floor. The small flicker of light from the candle enabled him to find the others he had placed around the cabin, which he lit in turn until a warm yellow glow illuminated his surroundings. The man walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, removing his dirty boots and undressing. He stood again and went into the bathroom, turning on one of the taps. When he had first arrived there was no water, but since then he had discovered the well outside and was refilling the cabins water supply every day. The water was freezing as always, and he rinsed his burnt fingers under the soothing flow or liquid, a breath of relief forcing its way past his lips. He half closed his eyes and then placed his other hand under the water too, beginning to wash the dirt off them. Then he splashed water onto his bare skin, flinching slightly, the cold water being like ice. Cleaning his body, the man ran his hands over the scars that were littered across his legs and torso, wincing at the memories that came with them. Finally he came to his face.

His hands flickered up and gently grasped at the edges of the white mask.


	2. First Glimpses

**Hey guys, I'm back. I have worked hard on this chapter, I hope that you all like it. Hopefully you can guess who the pasta in this story is going to be... anyway, please read and review! xx**

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Embry glanced up anxiously at the clock. God, it felt like she had been waiting here for ages, but in truth she had only been sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair for a half hour. Fidgeting, Embry dropped her eyes back down and she began picking at a loose thread in her jumper.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

There was someone watching her. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair; something about their face was unsettling. Did she know them? Embry risked a quick glance, and luckily at the same time they had decided to check the time, meaning she could spend a few moments studying their face.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

No, she didn't know them, but their face was so distinctive it felt as though she should. All his features were sharp, angular and undeniably handsome. Black, messy hair fell slightly into piercing blue eyes with extremely long lashes. She imagined he would be tall and slim if he stood. His eyes flashed up to hers.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Quickly she looked down again and let her russet hair fall into her face, providing a curtain between both of their curious eyes. Perhaps now he was the one wondering why this stranger had been staring at him. The thought brought a small nervous chuckle to her lips which she concealed with a cough.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

A small chiming noise rang around the room. Heads all rose up at the disturbance from newspapers, magazines, books, phones and the floor, searching for the source. A teenage girl, followed by who appeared to be her mother, exited into the room from a door with a small bell attached and walked up to an elegant wooden desk, behind which sat a smartly dressed woman with stylish glasses. Embry followed them with her eyes.

"Miss Leighton?" A soft male voice called. Embry turned towards the man who had called for her. The middle aged man smiled, making crinkles appear around his eyes, and he beckoned her, extending his arm to the door. Quietly she stood, picking up a small brown rucksack from underneath her chair. She walked over to the man who held the door open for her. People watched her pass with little interest, mostly just to find something to keep them amused. With a grateful smile to the man, she stepped through.

This room was much prettier and elaborate than the waiting room outside. Embry looked at the fireplace as she entered. The metal had floral patterns carved into it and the grating was not dirty or ash covered, but shiny and clean, almost brand new. Burning in the firebox was a beautiful orange flame, spreading warmth, which hit Embry and was welcomed openly. The fire crackled like twigs snapping underfoot and Embry shivered. There was a simple wooden desk in the centre of the room, on either side were comfortable looking, cushioned chairs, and the desk was littered with pictures, paperwork and random objects that would belong at home, rather than in an office. In the corner of the room by the fire was a small, black and white cat, sat watching Embry with orange eyes like saucers.

"Ah, don't mind Lucy there," that same soothing voice said, lightly touching Embry's shoulder. "I had to shoo her off my pillow last night. Since then she has been in a bad mood with me, and I thought bringing her to work here was a better idea than leaving her at home alone. I can keep a watch on her this way. You never know what cats get up to on their own." He gave a knowing smile.

"No, it's okay Mr. Duffield- I mean Harry," Embry corrected herself, knowing her therapist preferred to be called by his first name, which he said meant they were on the same level. "I was just looking at her eyes."

"Amazing, aren't they?" He agreed, walking over to the desk. With a small nod she followed him, taking the chair closest to the door as usual whilst he took the one at the back. "So… how have you been?" He asked, sitting down and folding his arms underneath his chin. Embry shrugged.

"Okay," she replied, but she knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that. "One of my art pieces was displayed in our school exhibition and someone has contacted me asking to buy it," she told him.

"That's good, that's good," he said with a smile. Embry smiled too and gave another little nod, nonchalantly playing with a chestnut curl. "And I assume everything between you and Mason is sorted now?" She scowled as Harry mentioned her older brother. Normally he took her to art class on a Saturday- one of the things she most looked forward to every week- but he had refused purely because he wanted to watch a film on the day it was released in the cinema. She had never been so annoyed at him.

"That's questionable."

"Has he apologised?" She bit her lip and dropped her hands onto the desk, drumming an odd beat onto the wood with her slender fingers.

"Yes," she began, and then hurriedly continued, "but that doesn't make it okay. He knows how much my art means to me and I rely on him to take me! I can't walk because it's too far, he knows that."

"Embry, I understand where you're coming from, of course I do. It's a natural response to be selfish, even a little like you are now, but to be able to accept things, you have to accept that selfishness. Your brother might have been wanting to watch that movie the day it came out since the day he heard it was being made. It might have been something he really wanted to do. Have you considered that?" Embry paused for a second and thought about it.

"Well no, I just thought _he_ was being selfish," she retorted.

"Perhaps he was," he agreed, "but so were you. He has been taking you to art since I first saw you, that was about two years ago. That's a long time, so maybe he should be allowed to do what he wants once in a while?" Harry told her. Embry sighed and placed her forehead on the cool surface of the desk instead of her fingers. She stayed like that for a while before answering.

"Oh."

"You okay?" Harry asked. She mumbled something incoherent and then sat up.

"I'm annoyed," she answered simply. How long had she been coming to these therapy sessions for? Two years. How long had Mason been taking her to art? Two years. How long had she been living with her new family? Two years. God, these last two years had been boring. She just wanted something to change.

... (time skip, I shouldn't do many of these in the future)

Embry threw her rucksack to the side as she walked through her front door. It closed behind her and she saw Suzi poke her head around the kitchen door, from which a delicious smell was emitting.

"How was therapy?" Suzi called, and Embry began to take off her shoes as she called back her answer.

"It was normal, Harry's talked me into making up with Mason, and I got to meet his cat so… it was okay. What are you making?" She stumbled slightly as she balanced on one leg to take off her boot and cussed under her breath.

"Fajitas," her adoptive mother called. Embry smiled at her, grabbed her bag and went up the stairs to her bedroom. It was a pretty room, large and well organised. Her bed was a simple light wood with plain white sheets, and the other furniture was made from the same pale wood. The soft pink of the wallpaper made the room warm and inviting, and there were fairy lights hanging across the walls, all around. She slumped down into a white plush bean bag on the floor and took her phone out of the front pocket of the rucksack and sent a message to her brother. Most likely, Mason would be down at the athletics stadium coaching, but she wanted to contact him as soon as possible. After clicking send she stood again and went over to her art room, entering.

When she had first seen her bedroom when she was being trialled to live with the Leighton's, this room had been an en-suite bathroom. She had transformed it into her art room with shelves full of new canvases, pencils, pens, paints and her finished and in progress artwork. As well as the shelves she had a speaker system built in so she could listen to music as she worked, and a sliding soundproof door so she could get lost in her world of art.

Embry shut the door behind her and looked at the half finished painting on the easel in front of her. It was of a figure, a man, standing in the pool of light from the streetlamp above, down a dark street. So far the background had been painted, but the man was still just a sketch… No face, no body, no nothing. Just a shape. Biting her lip, Embry studied it, but she couldn't think of who would be down that street. She couldn't finish this yet.

Instead, she went over to the shelves and took her sketchpad out. She sat down at her little bench and balanced the book on her lap, flicking through the pages. Finding a clean page she began to sketch Harry's cat Lucy, focussing on capturing her amazing orbs.

Embry felt it was so easy to get lost in drawing. It was like time stopped as soon as the pencil touched the page, and time would only continue once you stopped drawing. About an hour later when she had finished, she looked down at it and frowned. Something wasn't right. She wandered back over to her shelves and pulled out a variety of green pencils, and coloured the eyes.

 _There._

Finally satisfied, Embry left her art room and looked outside her window, being careful not to prick herself on her mini cactuses she had as decorations. It was dark now. Really, she needed to get going. She didn't like walking in the dark, and Suzi didn't like her walking in the dark either. But, she had promised Georgie she would go over for the night so they could have a study day tomorrow.

With a sigh she left her room and headed back downstairs. Suzi was bustling around trying to clean up and make Ollie and Dimana eat their dinner, and Embry could see her face was red and frustrated. She laughed a little and grabbed a black hoodie off the coat hook, throwing it over her body. Then she pulled on her boots and picked up headphones from the table.

"Going out?" Suzi asked, whilst trying to persuade Ollie to eat by pretending the fork she was holding was an airplane.

"Yeah, Georgie's for the night, remember?"

"You always seem to pick the nights when these two are being nightmares," Suzi replied with a frustrated laugh of her own. Embry laughed too and flicked her hair back over her shoulder.

"See you," she put her headphones in her ears and began to play her favourite music, drowning out the world around her. After stepping out onto the porch, she turned and shut the door, grabbing a key from the flowerpot next to her to lock it. For some reason, it felt as though she was being watched, exactly the same way it had been earlier in the waiting room for therapy with the handsome boy. And she had been right then, hadn't she? Uncomfortably she lifted the hood around her face so whoever it was wouldn't recognise her. She turned, and she saw a small stone be disturbed and roll across the pavement. Whoever it was didn't want to be seen. Well, two could play at that game. Her heart racing in her chest, Embry crossed the street and merged into the shadows. Then, breath held, she turned, praying they weren't following her.

A man emerged from the shadows. The hunter was now the prey; he clearly thought he had been unseen. The fluid and carefully thought movements of the man unsettled Embry, but that wasn't the most disturbing thing. As he passed underneath the streetlight, she saw the white mask on his face. Blackened eyes, and a bloody smile.

She knew exactly who she was going to paint into that picture when she got home.

 **So what did you think? Review please, please, please! If I get enough interest I'll continue this**


	3. Not again

**Hey guys! I'm back with the next chapter. I'm sorry it's short, I really wanted to get it up, and it's sort of a filler! Please read and review! It means a lot and keeps me inspired!**

Green eyes followed after him, widened in shock. Carefully she reached up and removed her headphones, placing them in her bag. Who was he? Was this some kind of sick joke? Perhaps Cosplay? Embry shook her head in disbelief. Undoubtedly he had hidden so she wouldn't spot him watching her… why was he watching her? So many questions, so few answers. Following him was a stupid idea, she knew, but the curiosity was overwhelming her. Maybe if she stuck to this side of the path he wouldn't hear her footfalls; she shuddered as she thought about what would happen if he did hear. The man had almost reached the end of the street when her phone went off.

 _Shit_. She had forgotten she had left her phone off silent. Her heart stopped as his head lifted and his feet ceased movement. _Shit. Shit. Shit_. Embry turned her back and hurried off down the street, hoping that if he turned to look back he would think that nothing had happened, that she was just going along her way. With shaking hands she reached into her pocket to grab the now silent phone. A missed call alert from Georgie flashed up on the screen and she struggled to return the call with her trembling fingers. It rang a few times and then her friend answered.

"H-hello?" Embry muttered down the phone, still conscious that she was being followed. As if on instinct, she turned, but there was no one behind her. Instantly she calmed down a little.

"Embry where are you? It's dark… are you coming now?" Georgie asked down the phone. Embry increased her speed a little and turned down the road that would take her to her friend's house.

"Yeah, I'm coming now, I won't be long," Embry said. They muttered their goodbyes and then Embry hung up, noticing her fingers still shaking. She didn't even know if the man had meant harm, but something about him had triggered something within her, and it wasn't welcome.

The rest of the journey went quickly and she barely noticed when her hands turned white with cold. Arriving at Georgie's house allowed a large breath to escape her frozen lips, which she wasn't aware she had been holding. Reaching up she knocked twice and then stood back. Georgie opened the door with a smile, grabbing hold of Embry's sleeve, pulling her inside, and then enveloping her in a big hug. Returning the hug with weak arms, Embry's eyes were wide with fear, or maybe shock, she didn't know. When Georgie let go to shut the door behind them, her friend noticed.

"You okay?" The blonde girl asked, tucking a strand of her behind her ear and looking at her friend in concern. Embry nodded, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Yeah, I just… really don't like walking in the dark," she lied, although it was true to some extent. Normally men wearing strange masks didn't watch her, but she wasn't about to tell Georgie, fuck, her friend would probably think she was insane or something, or laugh about her fear.

"I gathered that," Georgie responded with a slight laugh. The two girls went up the stairs, Embry calling a greeting to her friend's little brother who was watching TV on the sofa on the way, and entered her bedroom. Georgie's room was significantly girlier and more childish than Embry's pretty one, with teddy's still laying around on the worn carpet, and floral patterns everywhere. A spare bed had been pulled out and made, prepared for the guest. She slung her overnight bag on to it, sitting down on the end.

"How was Greece?" Embry asked, once again picking at the loose thread in her jumper nonchalantly. It was the first time over winter break that she had seen her friend who had gone on holiday to Greece as usual. She had missed having Georgie there to talk to, and now she was even more glad she was back.

"Same old, same old," the other girl replied, "but Jackson has come back in a right mood. Doesn't seem to want to talk to me, and what with the murder last night, he's even more reluctant to do anything that involves leaving the house." Embry nodded her head slightly, understanding. The news of the murder had shocked most of the residents in town, because normally the area was peaceful. Since she had been here, there hadn't been a single crime. Maybe that just made the murder hit the town harder.

It had been a teenage girl. An elderly couple had found her whilst taking a walk through the local woodland, laid down carefully on the ground, her wrists slit, a stab wound in her stomach, and a smiley face drawn on her cheek in her own blood. The rest of her blood? According to the authorities, it had been drained. It was sick. Whoever had murdered the girl was sick.

"How are your mum and dad, still arguing?" She heard Georgie sigh and move over to the window, playing with a dreamcatcher.

"Yeah, they don't seem to stop anymore. Jackson gets upset by it all. I think that's what makes him act like this. When we were away they were happy… no arguments. We get back and…" She sighed. "You'll probably hear tonight." Embry offered her a reassuring smile. "So what do you want to do tonight?"

"I don't really mind. I would say we could go out, but Suzi will throw a fit if she found out. She knew I was coming straight here which is the only reason she let me leave the house."

"I know someone else like that," Georgie said, referring to her over protective mother. Embry laughed and soon her friend joined in. "Okay let's just… watch something then," Georgie offered, and Embry agreed.

"I brought over that film, 'The other woman,' we could watch that?" She offered, pulling the movie from her bag. They agreed on that and settled down to watch the movie with popcorn, joking around about the people in their school. Already, Embry felt much happier.

Eventually the movie finished, and they joked around for a bit longer before getting ready for bed. Under the harsh light of the bathroom, Embry could see the haunted look in her eye. Why had that man scared her so much? She trembled a little, remembering his creepy white mask.

"You done yet?" Amy called, banging her fist on the bathroom door. It broke Embry from her daze.

"Yeah, just coming!" She washed her face quickly and left the room, grabbing her wash bag. Back in the room, Georgie had changed into her pyjamas and was texting on her phone, with a small grin on her face. "If that message is to Mason I'm going to kill you," Embry warned with a smile of her own. Georgie giggled, biting her lip. A pillow collided with her with a little force, the russet haired girl standing over her with a guilty face. Georgie laughed harder and dropped her phone standing up, trying to get out of the room without being attacked again.

"What? Your brother is hot," Georgie said, and then she sprinted from the room, leaving Embry in fits of giggles. She tried to stay awake whilst her friend was in the bathroom, but ended up falling asleep as soon as she shut her eyes.

...

"Morning," Georgie grumbled, rolling over and hitting Embry lightly with her arm. Groggily she opened her eyes and groaned, shutting her eyes quickly and pretending to be asleep. Georgie shoved her again and Embry giggled, pulling the sheets up to cover her face.

"Go away," Embry mumbled, and Georgie giggled, getting out of bed. Reluctantly Embry did the same, flinching when her bare feet touched the floor, and stretching. She yawned, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' shape. She needed a shower. Both girls heads turned towards the door as a knocking sound came.

"That you Jackson?" Georgie asked, her voice cracking slightly from only just waking up. There was a small scuffling sound behind the door as someone tried to open it. "Don't bother, it's locked," Georgie said, and Jackson let out a small whine.

"Well mum said to come downstairs. She wants you to watch the news. There's been another murder." Georgie and Embry's eyes widened as they turned to look at each other. This couldn't be happening.

"We're coming," Embry called back, slipping on some thick socks and throwing a grey hoodie over her pyjama top. Georgie did the same, and they both hurried to the door, unlocking it quickly and going down the stairs. Before they reached the bottom they could hear the flat voices of news reporters, and Embry paused at the bottom of the stairs, not sure if she wanted to see the report. She took a deep breath and followed her friend into the living room.

"Once again, a brutal murder has rocked our streets," the woman said. Her face was sullen, but it was obvious that she herself was shocked. "The body of Mary Jessop was found at roughly 8am this morning, in exactly the same state as the last victim, Haley Marshall. The woman was found hidden around the back of the thrift shop she worked at, her stomach stabbed, wrists slit, and blood drained. There was also the same smiley face drawn on her cheek on what has been identified as her own blood. Now, we must caution viewers that the images that we are about to show may not be suitable for young children."

An image of the dead body came up on to the screen, making bile rise in Embry's throat. Just as they had said, there was a smiley face drawn on her cheek, the blood dried and crusting.

"Oh my god…" Georgie whispered. She had gone white as a sheet. The screen flashed back to the woman.

"If anyone knows anything about this murder we ask you share with the local police. Until any new information comes up that suggests anything else… These murders will be treated as the work of a serial killer." Everyone in the room gasped and a sob escaped Jackson's lips. His mother hugged him close. "The police say whilst they are still in the dark, stay inside as much as possible and avoid wandering the streets alone. Stay safe." The TV went black as Georgie's mother turned it off, her hand white and shaking.

"Oh… my… God."

 **So there you go! I'm sorry the excitement sort of dies down after the beginning. But please read and review! And I promise that in the next chapter things are going to get a little tense... ;)**

 **Thanks for reading! TINT xxxx**


	4. Pieces

**I'm sorry this has taken so long to get up! It's Christmas and I have been busy with shopping and family and that sort of thing. But anyway, as promised, here is the next chapter of the story**

 **It's my little Christmas gift to you!**

 **Please read and review xxx**

Another sob ripped its way through Jackson's throat, piercing the silence. A strand of his fine blonde hair fell into his face and he buried himself in his mother's arms. Georgie, wrapping a shaking arm around him, looked over at Embry, who's eyes were wide and unblinking.

"Suzi will be worrying about me. I didn't call her last night to say I was here," Embry said calmly, pulling her phone from the pocket of the hoodie. Her fingers gently flew over the screen, sending a message to her mother, telling her everything was okay. It was almost scary calm, the aftermath of pure shock. Embry could feel something inside her, fear, and something else, like she was missing something. It was nagging at her, tickling the tip of her tongue, as though she should say it out loud. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pin her finger on it.

"I'll take you home later if Suzi wants," Georgie's mother said, "I don't want you walking. Even in daylight…" Jackson flinched at those words. Georgie hugged him tighter, and his mother laid an arm on his shoulder comfortingly. Their dad then came into the room, scratched his head, frowned and looked at Bettie.

"Stop winding the poor boy up, it's fine out there," Gareth said in gruff voice, slouching into the kitchen. His voice travelled back into the room from where he was getting a glass of water. "This murderer is clearly too much of a coward to take his work to the light, so you'll be completely safe." Bettie scowled in his direction.

"It doesn't matter. They said it's a serial killer, they're unpredictable, and it's dangerous. If I didn't love this house so much I would say to leave," she argued back, and Georgie looked at Embry in a pleading way, although there was nothing either girl could do. Jackson's red face appeared again, tears falling from his blue eyes.

"Leave? That would let them win. We stay and we face whatever little cowardly bastard thinks they can do this to our town. They're just pathetic really, think they're big and hard by killing." Another tear fell from Jackson's eye and rolled down his cheek. Embry caught his glance and nodded her head towards the stairs as Georgie stared at her wide eyed. It wasn't good for either of them to stay in this room as their parents began to argue. She stood and turned towards the stairs, leaving the room quickly, pulling her hair from the pony tail she slept in and letting it cascade down her back like a russet waterfall. Footsteps echoed behind her as she went up the stairs and into Georgie's bedroom. Carefully she sat on the bed and smiled warmly at Jackson as he walked into the room. He was by her side in two seconds, nestling in her lap and hugging her, shaking, sobs tearing from his frail body. Embry wrapped her thin arms around him and looked up as Georgie walked wearily in too, smiling at the sight. There were tears in her eyes too.

"You were in the room," she said quietly, "and they didn't even care." Embry offered a small smile which Georgie tried to return, but her pretty face crumbled, and she sobbed slightly. Jackson's grip tightened around Embry.

"I suppose they didn't notice," Embry replied, trying to make the truth seem better than the harsh reality.

"Of course they noticed," Georgie spat back harshly. She came over to the bed too and sat next to Embry, gently running her hand through her little brothers hair. "They just don't seem to care anymore." Jackson sat back slightly and held his sisters hand. He was so small for his age, but he held so much bravery inside him and so much courage, that Embry was almost in awe of him. She had been through much more than him, but she hadn't been seven at the time.

"I'm sure they do care," she said, smiling at Jackson, who returned the smile with a weak one. As she spoke she wiped the tears from his face with her thumb. She cared for him like her own little brother sometimes; she had known him and Georgie for so long. She had three adoptive siblings only, Mason, Dimana and Ollie. Ollie was three and the youngest. Dimana was nine and Mason was seventeen like her, except in two weeks he would turn eighteen, and Embry had only just had her birthday.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," Georgie said to her, "I'm not really in the mood for studying. And Suzi will probably be worrying like you say. I mean, you're more than welcome to stay, but-" She flinched and silenced for a moment as the sound of a glass smashing came from downstairs. Jackson stood with a small whimper and left the room. The sound of a door slamming then followed as he locked himself away again. Georgie closed her beautiful blue eyes and drew in a sharp breath. When she opened them again, tears lined the sapphire orbs, and Embry hugged her best friend.

"I don't want to leave you like this."

"It's fine. It will give me time to calm down, and then I can go and talk to Jackson. Some things need to be done alone, don't they?"

Embry smiled reassuringly at her friend. She understood entirely, and maybe it would be nicer to be with her family in the aftermath of the second murder, and in truth it was much easier to concentrate without her friend as well. Quickly she changed into a checked grey and black shirt, stressed blue jeans and slipped on her boots from yesterday. She grabbed her hoodie and held it over her arm, before picking up her overnight bag too. With a small smile she left the room, followed by Georgie. How was she being so strong? Parts of her wanted to collapse down, beg to leave, or flee. These murders just brought up too many unwanted memories. They made their way cautiously down the stairs, but things had seemed to quiet down now.

"Mom, would you take Em home? Jackson's stropped off and we aren't going to be able to get much studying done after watching the news," Georgie said rather coldly. Embry noticed her eyes scanning the room, resting on a shattered glass and water spill, then searching for her father, who was nowhere to be seen. Pinching a chestnut strand of her hair that had fallen into her face, Embry contemplated saying something to comfort the both, but decided against it, and bit her lip.

"Yeah, course," her mom replied. The tension could have been cut with a knife. Anger radiated off Georgie in strong waves, but Embry needed to stay calm. "Now?"

"Yes please," Embry finally spoke up, "now would be nice."

Bettie stood and grabbed her car keys from the mantle above the fireplace. They jingled like wind-chimes. Georgie turned to Embry and hugged her quickly, but close. Then she was out the door, leaving behind the breaking family, her feet crunching on the gravel softly as she towards the black car. The door opened with a click and she sat inside on the cool leather. Bettie started the car and pulled away from the drive, the engine purring softly.

"Did… Jackson seem too bad?" She suddenly asked, and Embry looked up from her nails in interest.

"He was upset, of course he was," she answered. There was no need to be nice now. Georgie and Jackson weren't there to be more hurt, and she wasn't just going to watch as her best friend's life became hell.

"Of course," Bettie replied simply. The conversation died pretty quickly after that. There was no need for small talk; silence was welcome enough. When they got to Embry's house, she undid her seatbelt and quickly got out, ready to close the door immediately behind her. Bettie's hand stopped her. "Stay safe," she said, before closing the door herself and pulling swiftly away.

As Embry turned, she gasped. The bush was rustling, the same one that the masked man had hid behind the previous night. Blood ran cold and she froze. A smokey grey cat jumped from the bush and rubbed her pretty head against Embry's leg. She relaxed.

"Tiffany, you scared me," Embry murmured as she dropped to her knees to scratch the cat behind the ears, making her purr and roll onto her back. A genuine smile passed over her lips, brightening her eyes, and she stood.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Embry turned quickly. No one was behind her. 'It's just your mind, playing tricks on you,' she told herself, but her heart still hammered hard against her chest and she shook. Then her eyes focussed on something on the floor, something glinting off the sun, something sharp. Tiffany walked up to it and held out her delicate nose, sniffing it. Her ears flattened against her head.

"Come away," she whispered, not able to manage anything more, gently pulling the cat away with her hands. Tiffany meowed softly and ran to the front door and through her cat flap. With trembling hands she reached down and picked up the badge, holding it up to her face, examining it. There was blood covering the pin, dripping gradually onto the floor and into her hands, causing bile to rise up into her throat. The face of the badge was yellow with a black smiley face drawn on in sharpie. Holding her breath she shoved it into the pocket of her hoodie which she was still carrying over her arm.

"I'm back," she called as she hurried through the door, almost slamming it shut behind her. Suzi stuck her head around the kitchen door, and then walked out, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"I thought you were having a study day with Georgie." There was concern in her adoptive mothers eyes, and Embry looked down at her boots, refusing to meet her fretful gaze.

"We watched the news... I decided it to be best to come home." Suzi nodded, and headed back to the kitchen. "I'm going to take a shower if that's okay."

"Don't be too long. Chris has taken the kids to the winter carnival, Mason will be back from the stadium soon. They will want the shower." Embry nodded, even though Suzi couldn't see, and drew in a shaky breath. She ran up the stairs and through her bag in her room, kicked off her boots, grabbed her dressing robe. The shower seemed so welcoming at the moment, but there was something she needed to do first.

Hurriedly she locked herself in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Although she still shook, she was able to pluck the badge from the hoodie and hold it in her hands without feeling ill. Crusting now, the blood didn't drip, and it made her wonder how someone had got the fresh blood on it quick enough for her to find it still wet, but then she blocked the images from her mind.

She unlocked her phone and opened her favourite search engine, quickly typing in two words. _Recent murders._ Of course, the murders from her town were the first to pop up. She clicked on one and went straight through all the text, going to the pictures, where she unwillingly zoomed into her cheek. Just as the reporters described, there was a smiley face on her cheek. Embry's green eyes flashed back down to the badge, and she sucked in a sharp breath of realisation, and pieces started to fly together. They were drawn almost exactly the same.

After putting both objects down she stripped quickly and jumped in the shower, wanting it to be quick so she could get back to her room. But as the water washed the drying blood from her hands, it ran with the water down her body, across her chest, down to her stomach, and over her scar. It was ugly, stretching across the right side of her abdomen. Embry looked down at it with a face as hard as stone. No, now wasn't the time to relive her past, to remember why she was here, not with her true family.

Finally she had washed all traces of shampoo and conditioner from her hair. She shut off the flow of warm water and stepped outside, wrapping a towel around her body and her hair. After drying her body she dropped the towel to the floor and put her dressing robe on, grabbing her phone and the badge and shoving them in the pocket.

Embry half sprinted from the bathroom into her room, locking it behind her. She threw on the same clothes from earlier which she had picked up upon leaving the bathroom. Once again grabbing her phone and the badge she went to the art room and slid the door shut, running to the incomplete painting of the mystery man, and grabbing a pencil. Embry only worked from the mind, and the memory of the masked man was so strong that the pencil flowed across the paper instinctively. The paints came out then, drawing the bloody smile and black eye holes on the pure white of the mask. She captured the way his black hair had fallen slightly in front of the mask, and it frustrated her that she couldn't capture his expression too. But when she was finished, she stepped back, and admired her work briefly.

"Who are you…?" She muttered to herself. Then she picked up her phone with the image of the girls bloodied cheek and the badge and held it next to the painting of his face. Then the pieces all fell together. The man she had seen was the murderer. He left the same face on his mask on his victims cheek. He left the badge for her because she had seen him. He could have just left it, but he didn't, and fear washed over her, not for the first time that day.

She was going to be his next victim. And he was making sure she knew it.

 **There you go! I hope you liked it :) It was quite long as well. Read and review please**

 **TINT xxxxx**


	5. Always watching

**Here's the next chapter! Hope you all had a good Christmas and have a great new year as well! So far I haven't had many reviews, follows or favourites… I would appreciate more of them please!**

Embry stood still for a moment, her next breath stuck inside her throat, which also tightened around her voice. It was like he was toying with her, playing some sick game, trying to get her to break down. His prize for winning the game would be to kill her of course. There was no doubt of that detail in her mind, and she was already playing it out in her mind, wondering if her lifeless body would be the next to be shown on the news, or if he would take this game away from the public eye. Had he done this to the others too? Tortured them mentally?

A small knock on the door brought her out of her dark reverie. Embry turned quickly, locking her phone and shoving it and the badge in her jeans pocket. She walked to the door and opened it, trying to make her face seem calm and normal.

"Hey," Mason said as she slid open the door. Embry smiled and hugged him quickly, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Sorry that I haven't been around to see you," Embry mumbled, pulling back and offering a sheepish smile which was quickly returned. "And I'm sorry for being such a bitch over the art class thing."

"No, that's okay," he answered, peeking over her shoulder at the painting. "Who's that freak?" He asked, a playful expression on his face. Embry laughed nervously, trying to cover up. She didn't know why, but telling someone about him seemed like the wrong way to go.

"Um… I don't really know. I just drew him, but as you can see," she indicated to his lack of body, "he's not finished yet." Mason walked into the art room, receiving a small grumble from his sister, who never really liked people entering her most private room.

"He's creepy as fuck," Mason said with an open laugh. Embry joined in, but this time the laughter was more genuine. Part of her hoped that the man would hear, but then another part of her hoped that the man wasn't anywhere close enough to hear, and another part told her she was completely stupid for thinking that he would be watching her.

"Yeah, I guess he is," she agreed. Mason turned and gave his sister a funny look, something between a smile and a grimace.

"It's not good what's happening at the moment, is it?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "The parents at the stadium have been talking about it a lot. There are a lot of people who are scared right now."

"Dimana doesn't seem too bad," she commented, remembering the way Jackson had been.

"Mom and Dad have tried to keep it from her. They said that there was someone mean out there and gave her the talk about strangers this morning after the news report, and then dad took them both to the carnival to distract her, I think." Embry nodded. "I'm going to take a shower." She nodded again and lightly touched his shoulder with her hand as he walked past to the main bathroom.

Alone again, she slipped back into the terrified frenzy, hurrying over to a drawer and placing the badge there for safekeeping. Noticing her hands outstretched before her, she whimpered and started trying to wipe something off them that wasn't there. In her mind the blood was still staining her hands and clothes. In reality, it was long gone, down the skin with water, lost in the maze of pipes.

Embry left the art room almost in a daze, going to the window and drawing the curtains. It was light outside, but she wanted to shut herself in, hide away. She checked the time and was instantly disappointed. One in the afternoon. Finding something to do to distract herself was going to be hard now, but she tried, grabbing a chemistry text book and studying. Only when she found herself chewing the end of her pen did she realise she was bored of that, and so she slammed the text book shut and put it back on the bookshelf, replacing its place on the desk with her favourite book. She settled down to read Harry Potter, relaxing with the familiar words.

When it was time for dinner, Embry had moved on to writing a practise English Essay, and finished just before Suzi called them to eat. Chris and Mason were stood at the end of the table talking in hushed voices, and Dimana seemed to be telling Ollie off for having a toy truck at the table. She smiled a little and went into the kitchen to help Suzi serve the food. There was little chatter over dinner; most the conversation was about Mason's upcoming birthday, but he didn't have many plans other than a party with his friends away from home.

Eventually Embry excused herself, saying she had a headache and was going to bed early after finishing her book. They let her go without any questions. Back in her bedroom she focussed on getting ready for bed, running a hairbrush through luscious russet waves and changing into a cotton nighty, before going to the smaller bathroom, with only a toilet, sink, and large mirror. She brushed her teeth and washed her pale skin, which seemed to be more frail and delicate for some reason. The cool water felt nice against her face, and she continued to splash it on for a little while. She went back to her bedroom.

Embry wandered over to her bed, pulling back the covers, ready to clamber between the sheets to sleep. She paused, noticing something on her pillow. The badge. How did it get there…? She could have sworn she left it in the art room, in a drawer, so how did it get there? Slowly she stretched out long fingers, touching it's cool surface, picking it up to examine. Embry narrowed her eyes and placed the yellow badge on her bedside table. For now she could forget about it and go to sleep, but in the morning the terror would come back, and she wouldn't want to leave the house, or be alone. She wasn't going to let her face be the next one shown as a murder victim.

It was a restless night, and sleep came and went like the tide. Upon waking up, she found that her neck was stiff and sore, probably from sleeping on it funny, and groaned a little. With caution she tried lifting herself up without straining her neck, and heard a crumpling noise as she put all her weight on her hands, but thought nothing of it. Another groan left her dry lips and her head swam from lack of sleep. What a great start to another nightmarish day. A small creaking noise made her snap her head towards the door, which she instantly regretted as pain went shooting through her neck. Tiffany mewed and ran over to the bed, jumping up to rub her head against Embry. The girl stroked the cat with one hand.

"You scared me again," Embry muttered with a croaky voice. The cat showed no remorse in her golden orbs. Tiffany padded over to the pillow and batted something gently with a single fluffy paw, which made a crackling noise and slid from the pillow. From what she could see, it was a piece of paper. How strange, things always seemed to be appearing in random places at the moment. She flicked the paper and it turned over, and Embry's eyes widened and she gasped, then ceased to breathe altogether. "No, no fucking way, no, no, no! Fuck!" She scrambled from the bed, ignoring the pain, staring wide eyed at the paper. This couldn't be happening.

It was her, captured perfectly in a sleeping position, drawn in pencil. It was drawn so well that every detail was captured, including the way her nighty had ridden up to show glimpses of her underwear. From the perspective, she could tell the artist had been by the window, possibly perched on the window sill. She hurried there, and had to fight back a scream when she noticed a smiley face carved into the wood. Apparently her theories from yesterday were confirmed now. She couldn't stay in this room.

Embry ran from the window into her art room, slamming the door shut behind her, panting for breath even though she hadn't gone far. The feeling of being watched yesterday that she had pushed down didn't seem so ridiculous now. The man could obviously get into her room… and then something hit her. He could have killed her then and there, muted her whilst she still slept and then woke her, to watch the light leave her eyes as he killed her. But he hadn't. She knew that he was playing with her, but she still felt grateful that he was giving her another day to live, at least.

The feeling disappeared as soon as she turned around.

' _So that's what he looks like,'_ was the first thought to cross her mind. The second was, _'he was in here too.'_ Her painting was finished now, his painting impeccably blended into her own. If she hadn't of been the original artist then she wouldn't have been able to tell it was finished by another person. Embry sauntered over to the canvas, looking at the clothes he had painted onto his own body. Dark jeans, black boots, a blue jacket, and a yellow smiley badge. At least now she didn't just imagine him as a mask.

She screamed now, sinking to the ground. This was a nightmare. She was still asleep. Yes, that was it. She was still asleep, and she needed to wake up and go to see her therapist, talk to him about arguing with Mason, and forget all about this dream. Until she woke up… well she would just continue her life normally.

Embry stood and walked from the room, grabbed the picture of her sleeping form and crunched it into a ball, throwing it into the bin. She smiled with satisfaction as it hit the bottom of the bin, making a dull echoing sound. She went to the window and clawed at the soft wood with her nails, scratching out the smiley face there, even though it made her nails bleed and her fingertips raw. It was a dream, after all, so everything would be okay when she woke up. It was all fine. The art room was next.

Her eyes met the painting's, and she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. Yes, it was a dream, but never before had she destroyed a finished piece of art, never. That couldn't change now, not even if it wasn't real, she just… couldn't. Hesitantly she stepped forward and ran her hands along the painting, liking the feel of the dry paint against her hands. But it felt too real to be unreal, and she dropped down to the floor, her legs giving out, her hands flying up to her face. So she wasn't dreaming.

' _I need to get up,'_ she told herself. _'I need to get up and get dressed and be normal. He'll kill me if I don't act normal. He's giving me a chance.'_ Embry thought it was a little stupid that she thought he was sparing her, but surely he would have killed her by now. Although she kept telling herself this, part of her felt like it was missing, taken by him, and it was only going to be returned when she knew she was safe. Until then, she was going to feel like this. Hollow and empty.

With a sigh she stood, running her shaking hands through her sleep matted hair. Hold it together girl, hold it together. She could do this, as long as he just stayed away for a while, but the chances of that were slim.

Embry dressed quickly in the usual jeans a top combo, but as she wasn't going out she chose an old top with was torn slightly down the sides. Normally she painted with this on, so there were patches of random colour all across the front. As she walked out the room she noticed her slippers by the door and pulled them on, grabbing her phone too from the window sill. Suddenly it occurred to her that she hadn't checked the time. 12:03. It was late.

Her footsteps echoed against the wooden stairs as she went down them, walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and something to eat. Instead of the usual sight of her mom at the marble island in the centre of the kitchen, there was a note on her chair. Embry's chest tightened at the sight of it, ready to see another smiley face or drawing, but when she looked it was just a handwritten note from her mom.

' _Embry, we came to your room to get you but you seemed so peacefully asleep, so we left you. We've gone to see nana, but we know that sometimes it can be awkward for you, so we've left you at home. We'll be out all day, so stay safe._

 _Mom xxxx'_

Embry's eyes widened and she began to feel sick instead of hungry, and for a moment thought she was going to throw up, not that there was anything to throw up. They couldn't leave her. Didn't they realise the danger they had put her in? He was watching her, so he would know they weren't here, that she was alone.

' _I need to get out of here.'_

Slippers were switched out for boots quickly, and she threw on her green parka coat, ready for the cold. The front door seemed too far away, but she crossed the gap in seconds, undoing the dead bolt and yanking it open. It was pushed back by a gloved hand.

Green eyes, filled with fear, flashed up, looking at a white mask with dark eyes and a painted on bloody smile.

"Now… I don't really think it's safe to be going outside alone at the moment," a low, husky voice said from behind the mask. Embry screamed.

 **I hope you like it! Please read and review :)**


	6. NOT AN UPDATE

Hey guys! Sorry, this isn't an update :( However, the new chapter will be up soon, and as you know, Mr. Otis has jut made his first appearance... But anyway, I would really appreciate if you could all go and check out the poll on my profile to vote for which creepypasta you would like to see appear in the new story I am going to be writing soon. If I don't get any votes, I will just choose myself. Thank you for reading this story!

TINT xxx


	7. The bloody painter

**I'm back! Please go have a look at the poll of my profile to vote for which creepypasta you want my next story to be about. I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, and even more now that our mysterious man has finally shown his face! Or well… uh… his mask XD**

 **Please read and review to keep me inspired! Xx**

A gloved hand clamped down over her mouth instantly, cutting off the scream. The man pushed Embry's small delicate body back against the door, one hand over her mouth and the other fisted in her paint splattered top, holding her in a vice like grip. A small growl seemed to be coming from his throat.

"Shut up," he hissed, "or I will have to knock you out, which is no fun _at all_." Embry widened her eyes in fear, but nodded, hoping he would release her so she could run. There was no doubt in her mind that the psychotic man would do exactly as he said and knock her out, even though that is what she would prefer, instead of having to suffer the pain of whatever sick thing he was planning to do with her. Running probably would only bring that pain sooner, so she very quickly shook that idea from her head. Embry didn't want to give in and let this man win, but she really didn't have a choice. The hand left her mouth and she had to bite her lip to stop herself making a noise. "Much better."

The man let go of her shirt and took a few steps back, walking over to the coffee table and gently playing with the petals of a flower in a vase there, but making sure to keep his body facing her, ready to dart forward to grab her if she tried to move. Whimpering quietly, Embry's knees gave out and she sunk to the ground against the wall, looking up at the murderer. Now she had a chance to look at him. Very tall and probably strong, he towered over her small height of 5'2". Like in the painting of himself he had finished, he wore a blue jacket with a yellow smiley badge pinned to the front, black jeans, and black boots which adorned his feet. On his hands were black gloves, made from a hard material which she had felt on her face just moments ago. A dark thought crossed her mind. Those gloves were worn to stop his finger prints appearing everywhere. He was a smart and probably experienced killer.

"You fascinate me," he suddenly said, his husky voice piercing the silence. Embry continued to stare. "I remember watching you when you started to figure out what was going on. You were in your little room, painting me, not knowing I was watching you from your window. I must admit, if your bedroom window didn't look out into the garden, this would have been much harder. It was too easy to sneak through the gap in your garden face, climb the tree by your window and then balance on the ledge. I had to disappear then, no thanks to your brother."

He pulled one of the petals from the flower and seemed to look at it for a while, but she couldn't tell, thanks to the mask on his face. Being in the same room as him and so close made it all seem so much more real. When she had first saw him in the streets it hadn't been as bad, mostly just shocking. She had been too stupid then to make the connections.

"You were watching me before then," she choked out, her throat painfully closing around the words. It was a struggle to talk, but too many thoughts were nagging at her mind. In the streets when her phone went off, the bloody badge, him coming into her room…

"Yes I was," he replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice as she questioned him. "When I saw you come out of your house for the first time I hid, not wanting you to see my face and become suspicious. I have to take a lot of caution not to be caught, you see. So I hid. But when your phone went off I knew you were watching me, so a while later, out of curiosity, I looked for you, finding you at your friend- Georgie's?- house, a few blocks away." Slowly he came closer to her as he spoke, standing a few feet away, looking down, strands of dark hair falling over the white top of his mask. "I went away again, having no interest in your girly activities. I returned to your house the next morning. I assumed you knew of my own activities last night, as I noticed all the yellow tape and vans around the thrift shop."

Embry gasped as he admitted to murdering Mary Jessop. If he murdered her, he murdered the last girl as well, as they had been found in the exact same state. All her thoughts and theories were confirmed now, and it dawned on her she was trapped in her house with a killer. Small tears welled up in her bloodshot eyes, threatening to spill down her sickly pale cheeks.

"Yes, I killed her. Mary, I believe her name was. At least, that's what her name badge said that she had to wear for her job. The other girl told me her name was Hailey before I lured her to the woods. She was too easy that it almost wasn't fun."

A dark chuckle left his lips and he moved closer to Embry once again, crouching down in front of her, and she could tell even through his mask that he was staring into her fear stricken eyes.

"But anyway, when I arrived at your house I was disappointed to see you weren't there, but it allowed me some time to snoop around. Your window isn't locked, by the way, so I could get in. I looked through your artwork, amazed to see your secret talent, but then I heard a car. It was you, of course it was. I waited around the side of your house for my opportunity, then gave you a small gift, although I must say, it was very painful having to shove a pin into my stomach. And then, as I explained a few moments ago, I was thrilled to see you work it all out. Very clever." Another chuckle, and another small gasp from Embry, who by this point couldn't speak.

After looking at her for a minute or so, he stood, rising gracefully to his impressive height. For some reason he placed the petal he had pulled off back onto the flower, balancing it carefully. Embry hadn't moved for what seemed like an eternity. Everything hurt from the uncomfortable position, her head swam, her eyes stung from the salty tears, and fear was consuming her body. Why would he be telling her everything when she could just go and tell the Police? Because he was going to kill her of course. Leave something for her parents to come back to.

"I took the opportunity of your distraction to sleep, and then I came back at night, wanting to leave you a few more gifts. I'm very generous." Embry was convinced that he was smiling beneath the mask, as sick as that was. "Once again your window was unlocked, so I came through, and realised you were downstairs. I heard voices and worked out you were eating, so I found our little badge and placed it upon your pillow. I waited for you to come back, outside your window, and then snuck back through, watching you sleep for a while." Embry's face contorted, no longer upset, but angry. Watched her sleep? How dare he? "I did the carving on your window first, then went to your art room and admired the painting of me. Finding your art supplies was easy, and I finished it for you, depicting myself in my signature outfit, you could say."

"How many of those jackets do you own?" She suddenly asked, curious. Almost immediately after asking that question she regretted it, confused as to how she could be asking something in this situation. He seemed outraged, whipping his body around to glare at her.

"One," he growled back, the playfulness gone from his voice. Embry ran a shaking hand through her hair and then used all her strength, which seemed to have disappeared, to stand, trembling. Angry eyes watched her movements. A sigh flew past her lips.

"So how do you wash it then, if you wear it all the time?" Another growl came from his throat, causing her to flinch away, her back pressed against the wall. In this situation she was completely submissive, and he knew it, for he stood in a manner that suggested he had full control.

"I don't wear it all the time," he answered. "'Signature,' remember? I just wore it here for effect." Embry giggled nervously at his words and he seemed taken aback. "No one has ever giggled with me after I told them that I'm a murderer, or asked about my clothing choices," he commented, a smirk evident in his voice.

"Yeah, well it's not the first time I've been alone with an evil man," she retorted, and the man tilted his head to the side in curiosity, as if asking her to continue. "My dad… But you don't need to know that. You're just going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" She demanded, confidence surging up within her as she realised that he wasn't set on killing her. Maybe he was just playing a game, but even a little reassurance was enough. "What do you mean you're not sure?" The man sighed.

"I like to play games, and you have been quite fun to mess around with. Watching you has kept me amused, but now you've seen me, it won't be as fun because you won't be waiting for me to come to you. You don't even seem scared of me anymore. The satisfaction is going away. Now, I'm not saying it _wouldn't_ be fun to kill you, it just… could be more fun doing other things." The quick explanation was enough for Embry to work out his plans for her. No, killing her wasn't going to be enough now she knew, of _course_ not. Instead, torturing her was going to be the better option, and there was little doubt in her mind that he would kill her afterwards, maybe only when she was begging for it. Another small giggle bubbled up to her lips, hysterical laughter this time.

"Fuck you," she laughed, staring at him with wide eyes. He chuckled darkly, closing the gap between them. He grabbed her wrists and held them in one large hand, pinning them above her head, whilst using his other hard to press something hard, sharp and cold against her neck. A knife.

"Say that again," the man challenged, a smile evident in his voice, which caused Embry to just laugh again, although fear had taken over her body as soon as the knife's blade had touched her delicate skin.

"Fuck," She began, grinning in a malicious way, "you." The man growled and moved his knife from her neck, instead grabbing her shirt in his fists, pulling her forward and then slamming her frail body back into the wall, her head cracking on the hard surface. Then he let go, walking away to the other side of the table, breathing deeply. "Anger issues?" She questioned, trying to push him further.

"Shut up." It was a warning. He was twirling his knife at a blinding speed between his fingers, never ever cutting his fingers, clearly showing it was something he had spent a lot of time doing. Embry shuddered at the thought of how long he had had the knife, and how many people he had killed with it.

"Make me."

"I mean it," he growled menacingly, fixing the strange black-eyed stare of his mask on her, suddenly holding the knife still. Finally she was quiet, hardly breathing, watching him with cautious eyes. Blue clad shoulders rose and fell steadily, until the man seemed to be scary calm once again. "Please don't push me like that, Embry," he requested in an unusually polite manner. "It's very hard to control myself at the best of times, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't aggravate me."

"I don't see why I can't. I don't want to have to go through whatever you're planning for me, so if I can get you to kill me out of rage, at least it will be quick." Oh, how she wished he could have just done it then.

"Embry… Do you mind if I call you Em?" She nodded quickly, not wanting to upset him at all. If he was upset he would want to hurt her like she hurt him, but if she angered him, he would just attack. It was a careful balancing act, but she knew she had lost her chance today. The man continued. "I don't even know what I am going to do with you. Please stop trying to make me kill you, because then I will get pissed off."

"On one condition," she threw back, somehow managing to make the words filled with hater yet soft at the same time, hopefully letting this man how she felt towards him. Tilting his head to the side as if to ask her to go on, he took a curious step towards her.

"Go on?" He questioned, his voice cautious. Every movement he made suggested he was ready for her to attack him, defensive. If that was the case then he really was stupid. Embry wasn't brave enough to take him on, and she was too scared. Her strong voice and harsh words spewed confidence, but inside she was a wreck, not sure whether to laugh or cry or shut down completely.

"Tell me your name," she asked. He shook his head vigorously, and she sighed and rolled her eyes. "So you're happy to tell me you've been watching me and messing with my head, but your _name?_ Oh no, we can't say that!" More hysterical laughter.

"Hold on, hold on," he requested, holding his hands up in front of him to defend himself. "I can't tell you my real name. No one knows it; no one knows me for me. That can't change. I can, however, tell you what _they_ call me." The words were coming out his mouth, but he didn't seem to mean them, and it sounded like there was a raging war inside his head.

"Okay?"

The man took a deep breath and put his knife into his jacket pocket, closing the pocket flap over the top to secure it all. Embry was eager to be able to call him something, anything.

"I'm sure fairly soon you will find out why they call me this…" he mumbled, taking another deep breath. "They call me the Bloody Painter."

 **Read and review please, I love all you guys who offer me support and inspiration! Go check out my poll, remember, and a big thank you to Superkassu for always giving me a lovely review! TINT xxxxx**


	8. Stay safe

**I'm back! I would really appreciate that if you read my story, you review it too! I only really get a review from one person, who is amazing and offers me support! But I would love for others to review too so I have a reason to continue writing this! Enjoy this chapter! Xxx**

"The... bloody… painter…?" Embry repeated hesitantly, trying to ignore the swimming that was still inside her head, making her feel dizzy, nauseous, even. "What sort of name is that?"

"I said you would find out soon enough," he spat back, the hostility returning again, the hint of softness that had appeared for a brief moment completely disappearing. Embry supposed it was a trait of being a psycho-killer, all the mood swings. It was going to be extremely hard for her to cope with this.

"I don't think I want to find out, if the blood part is anything to go by," she said simply, "so I think it would be much easier for me to just hear it." A chuckle left the bloody painter's lips and he pulled out one of the chairs from the dining table. Scraping against the wooden floor, the wooden legs of the chair made an awful squeaking noise which seemed to go straight through Embry, making her cringe. Gracefully he seated himself, extending a hand as if to offer her the seat opposite him. In her own house.

"Sit down," he asked. Embry stayed put, her heart beating hard against her chest, the swimming in her head seeming to freeze her in place. "Sit… down." It was an order that time. She complied. With great effort she managed to push herself off the wall and take a shaky step towards the table. One step after another, she managed to get to the chair, avoiding the gaze of the killer as she took a seat facing him. "Thank you. The reason they call me the bloody painter is simply because I am an artist. I don't paint in blood often- that would be far too much hassle to deal with- but occasionally I do. Mostly the nickname came from the fact I am a murderer and an artist, so it just seemed clever and catchy."

"How lovely," Embry said weakly with a shudder. The nausea had risen now. Painting in blood… She couldn't believe it. As an artist she could imagine putting the thick, warm liquid onto a brush and spreading it onto a canvas, creating something with the blood of someone else. Someone who was now dead. It made her feel sick.

"Well I certainly think so," he replied with a snicker.

"How old are you?" She then demanded, curiosity taking over her.

"Always curious," he mused, mostly to himself. Embry ignored it and sat with her chin resting on her hand, patiently waiting for an answer, if she was going to get one. He had answered all her other questions; she hoped he wouldn't make an exception to this one. Eventually, after a few sighs, he answered. "Nineteen."

That was younger than she expected and it shocked Embry, drawing a small gasp from her. For some reason she imagined him to be a lot older. She would like to think he was older. Being younger just gave them something else in common, which she despised. How could someone so young be so troubled that they would be drawn to murder? Another shudder over took her body, then she was calm, sitting quietly in the chair, her eyes fixed on the patterns in the wood rather than the man opposite.

"I'm seventeen," she replied in a shaky voice, "so there's not much age gap between us." He made a low sound in his throat which she took as a sound of agreement. "Is that a good thing, do you think?"

"In what situation?" Embry thought for a moment, gently chewing the inside of her cheek as she deliberated over his words. Finally she thought of an acceptable answer that hopefully wouldn't upset him.

"In a situation where- hypothetically- a girl doesn't want to be murdered by a killer." The bloody painter chuckled quietly and then subconsciously mimicked Embry, his elbow resting on the table and his chin resting in his gloved hand, the mask rising up slightly as he did, revealing a tiny strip of pale skin on his chin. Curious, her eyes flickered up, seeing that his neck and chin were the same sickly white colour.

"Perhaps in that situation- hypothetically of course- the killer would begin to view the girl as an equal." There was a smile evident in his voice, which made Embry involuntarily smile too. What an odd situation, she thought. When the bloody painter noticed Embry smiling he sat up straighter and put his arm back down at his side, always so hostile. "I would still always be in control," he said, almost answering something her smile had said rather than her voice.

"I thought we were talking about a hypothetical situation," she joked back, teasing him slightly, the smile not leaving her lips. She was like a bird dancing in a tree above a cat, taunting it, knowing it couldn't get up to where she was sat. The only exception was that this cat could get to her if it wanted, she just believed it didn't want to, but it still liked watching the bird to imagine itself killing it.

"Of course," he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his husky, low voice, which strangely was never muffled by his mask. Suddenly Embry stood. The bloody painter rose with her, pulling his knife from his pocket and instinctively moving towards the front door. She rose her eyebrows and moved towards the cupboards, opening them and digging around for a bowl and some cereal, which is what she had come down for anyway. She could feel curious eyes on her which she ignored, instead focussing on pouring the milk into the cornflakes and getting a spoon. In silence she went back to the table where she sat and began to eat.

Eventually she heard footsteps against the wooden floor and soon the bloody painter seated himself in the same seat as before, opposite her. Embry kept her head down, knowing he was watching her eat, which would have made her uncomfortable no matter who it was. Even at meal times with her family it made her uncomfortable when speaking when their eyes turned to her. She didn't know why; it was just a small, silly thing. With a killer sat opposite her twirling a knife, it was quite possibly the least of her worries. But it still annoyed her.

"What?" She finally asked, almost offended. "Why are you staring at me like that? Do you want some or something?" Something she said made him hold the knife still.

"You're offering me food now? You really are so fucking weird," he replied curtly.

"I don't tend to paint with blood."

"I don't tend to offer people threatening to kill me food." Embry smirked.

"You want some or not?"

"Yes, very much, thank you." Always so polite.

Slowly, so she didn't startle him, Embry stood, leaving her own meal behind, grabbing him his own. Then she grabbed two glasses of water for him and her, taking it all back to the table. As she approached he looked up with what she assumed to be a grateful smile, and she wondered how he ate. Walking into a store wouldn't exactly be easy for him. Taking another seat she sipped at her water, watching closely as he tilted his head down and lifted the mask slightly, the angle making it impossible to see anything. Embry raised an eyebrow.

"You must be hungry… I mean it must be hard for you to get food? How do you get food and water?" Once again the curiosity was getting the better of her, but thankfully the bloody painter didn't seem to mind that much. Perhaps it was the food putting him in a better mood already.

"Well it's not easy," he answered truthfully, making sure to keep his head down, "but it's not impossible. Normally if I kill in a home rather than on the streets I will take supplies from that house. Sometimes when I'm desperate I just break in to a random home at night, take what I need but making sure it's little so there is no suspicion, and then get out of there. That's worked for a long time now."

"What have you taken from here?" She asked. He had been in her room and house too a few times, so he was bound to have taken something. Food, toilet roll? She was unsure as to how she could think about that instead of why he was in her house. It was almost funny.

"Nothing." Well, that was unexpected. Embry noticed that he had already finished both his cereal and drink, and she almost wanted to offer him more, but decided that she didn't have to be nice. Yes, she couldn't upset or anger him, but that didn't mean she had to be _friendly._

"If you're not going to kill me then I don't know what you're meant to do for the rest of the day," she abruptly mentioned. "I was planning on having a day to myself and I wouldn't appreciate you hanging around all day. Stay here if you want to and amuse yourself, but don't take anything, don't disturb me, and don't go into my room. Deal?" Her voice was harsh and serious.

"And since when have you been in charge Princess?" The bloody painter retorted with a low chuckle, cracking his knuckles loudly. "I hold the knife, I do what I want. If I hadn't of decided to meet you… 'formally' today, then I could do whatever I want without you knowing. So no deal."

"My god, you sound like a little kid." He laughed louder this time and gently tipped his mask back down to cover his whole face so he could look back up, his neck stiff from being in the same position constantly. "But okay fine, do what you want. I'm just going to go to the bathroom, I won't be long." She stood, aware of the eyes boring into her back as she turned away and left the room.

She was up the stairs and in the bathroom with the door locked behind her in an instant. Almost as soon as the key was turned in the lock she began to cry, tears streaming down her face as she collapsed in a trembling mess. How the hell had she got herself into this situation? There was a psychotic murderer in her house, eating her food and she was having to act normal! Crying is what he would want; he got off on seeing others suffer. Why he had chosen her to be his little test guinea pig, she didn't know, but whatever sick things he was going to try with her made her wish he had just killed her. For now she had an excuse to hide away but soon he would become agitated and come looking for her, being angry when he found her hiding from him. This was going to be endless. There wasn't a single way she could think of that would get him to leave her alone, besides kill him which could never happen. Taking deep breaths, she stood, wobbly on her feet.

Embry walked to the sink and splashed cold water onto her face, rinsing the tear tracks away and hopefully reducing the redness and puffiness of her eyes. A little refreshed, she grabbed her tooth brush and cleaned her teeth systematically. When she was done she looked at her face in the mirror. It was still her, just with bloodshot eyes and sickly pale skin and chapped lips. Maybe that was what fear did to people. Sucked the life from the outside to torture you on the inside.

Embry was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to tell she had been crying, or that she was nervous, terrified, even. It would do for now and she could put on her game face and go back downstairs and hold it together. Shaking, she unlocked the door and headed back down the stairs.

The bloody painter wasn't in the dining room or the kitchen, where she had left him. Slightly furrowing her brow she walked through to the living room, opening the creaky door. Instantly she was shushed, and she looked down surprised at the bloody painter who was kneeling on the ground. At first she was confused, and then she saw that in his hands was a cat toy, and Tiffany was chasing after the feather wand he was swiping across the floor. Embry couldn't help but smile.

"You like cats?" She asked as she leant against the wall, watching them, listening to the sound Tiffany kept making every time she managed to catch the feathers which he was so desperately trying to keep away from her.

"I had cats once," he replied as he flicked the wand up to make Tiffany jump. The smokey grey cat leapt and landed gracefully on all four fluffy paws. "And your cat is very pretty. Does it have a name?"

"Tiffany," Embry replied, and the cat turned its yellow eyes to its owner as she heard her name.

"You ruined my game," the bloody painter moaned, gracefully rising to his tall height and turning to look at Embry. For a moment she held her breath, wanting to see if he would notice anything different about her. He didn't.

For the rest of the day the bloody painter seemed to keep to himself, playing with and stroking Tiffany, reading books he found in Embry's bedroom despite the complaints she made every time he went in there, and drawing. Unwillingly she had lent him an old sketch book and pencils and left him to it. Embry spent her day drawing random things that came into her mind. At one point she stopped and looked at her drawings, seeing an angel with strange smokey black wings, _that_ smiley face, and a man who seemed to be in his early twenties with dark hair and handsome face. His features were sharp and angular, his eyes a piercing blue and his eyelashes thick and long. There was something about him that seemed familiar.

At around seven she decided it was time for dinner, which was a quiet and uneventful event. Although she had her phone with her all day, Embry hadn't received any calls from her mom, and she was a little worried. If they didn't call before she went to bed, she would call them, to make sure that they weren't going to turn up unexpectedly to find their daughter with this man. Out of habit she made her favourite dinner: beef lasagne. The bloody painter didn't show his face until she called him, and he appeared from the living room, still holding a pencil.

"You hungry?" She asked, grabbing two plates, assuming he would say yes. Just as she expected, he nodded and stepped to the kitchen, grabbing their glasses from earlier off the table. Grateful, she gave him a small smile. After serving the dinner she took the plates to the table and the bloody painter put the glasses of fresh water down before seating himself in his usual seat, Embry sitting opposite like before.

Dinner was a fairly quiet event, each of them eating in silence, the bloody painter carefully tipping his mask and lowering his head to hide his face again. A few times she considered saying something to him, but decided against it. Sometimes silence was the most comfortable thing. When she finished she took their plates and began to wash them. He stood behind her, watching.

"Where will you sleep tonight?" Embry asked. There was no way that she would allow him to stay the night here. She supposed she wouldn't have much choice in the matter anyway, but she would still argue the point, no matter how much he threatened her. Part of her was starting to think he wouldn't hurt her.

"I have a place," was his simple reply. That confused her. How could he own a place? Surely people would see him leaving the house in his mask and coming back with blood all over him? There was probably an explanation, but none that she could think of. Suddenly her phone rang. Both of them jumped, Embry managing to splash the bloody painter with soapy water as she did, causing him to moan in protest. Quickly she dried her hand on a cloth and then answered her phone just before it would have gone to voicemail.

"Hello?" She said down the phone. A familiar voice came down the other end and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Embry it's just me," Suzi said. "We were driving back and the car broke down, but we were hardly anywhere from the village. The mechanic guys said it needs to go to a garage, so we have no way of getting home! We're staying the night here, and we'll try and be back soon." Inwardly she screamed. Now she would have to be alone for longer, vulnerable to attack from him. This wasn't good, no, not good at all. "Embry? Is that okay? I can send Mason down if you need-"

"No, uh, no it's fine don't worry. I can fend for myself," she replied, trying to keep from shaking. She could see him looking at her, and she imagined his face would be one of curiosity if the mask wasn't in the way.

"Okay sweetie. Stay safe!" Embry hung up with trembling fingers.

"They won't be back until at least tomorrow," she informed him, looking down at the floor, nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt. He nodded once and then headed for the door, quickly undoing the dead bolt. "You're leaving?" He turned back and once more nodded. "It's early, someone might see you!" A small chuckle sounded from him.

"No one will see me. I've never been caught anyway, have I?" She imagined he was right. The words 'stay safe' crossed her mind, and she almost laughed at herself as she shook them from her head. How stupid! If he got shot in the head she wouldn't care; she would be grateful. Or would she? Cold nights air creeped in as he opened the door, stepping outside. Just before he shut the door he turned to look at her. "Your window is unlocked, remember. We don't want any creepy murderers wandering in at night, do we?" He laughed at his own joke and then shut the door behind him, disappearing into the dark.

"Stay safe," she whispered after him.

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! This was the longest I've ever written and I enjoyed writing this one. Please read and review and check out my poll.**

 **TINT xxxxxxxx**


	9. Helen Otis

**Here's the next chapter guys! Please go and check out my new story, 'secrets', a Jeff the killer fanfiction. I hope you enjoy this chapter and please drop a review to keep me motivated! Now with two stories the gaps between updates may increase, but I'll be trying to get them up as quickly as possible. Also, please vote on my poll for which creepypasta you want to see appear next!**

 **Read and review please**

Embry wasn't quite sure why she had said that to him in the end. As far as meeting a killer went she supposed she had done quite well to still be alive, but there were no feelings there, nothing to make her want him to be safe. So why had she said that? Somehow she was confusing herself. For a while she stood just staring at the door he had just closed behind him, wondering where he was going, what he was doing. But then she seemed to come back to reality with a jolt.

Slowly she turned around and moved back into the kitchen. There were still a few dishes that needed cleaning, pans, plates and cutlery, so she set about the familiar routine of washing, drying, putting away. As she worked she was imagining his face. Even though she could have been completely wrong, in her mind his face was that of the boy's she had drawn, angular and handsome. _'How odd,'_ she thought, ' _that I'm thinking of a killer as handsome.'_ After she finished cleaning she wiped her hands down her paint splattered top, drying them. With nothing better to do, Embry decided the best thing to do would be to go to bed, at least content that tonight the bloody painter would leave her alone. He had said as much.

Trudging up the stairs Embry noticed how alone she felt. Her adoptive family wouldn't be back now until at least tomorrow, and she hated not having anyone with her when she fell asleep. In some ways it had been comforting to have someone to talk to earlier, even though she knew what he had done and what he could have been planning to do to her. Perhaps even a murderer was better than no one. Tiffany appeared around the corner when she reached the top of the stairs with the feather toy in her mouth. The cat regarded Embry with curious eyes.

"He's not here anymore," the girl said to the feline, gently scratching her behind a grey ear. "It's just you and me." With a soft meow Tiffany followed Embry as she strode to the bathroom, using the facilities and brushing her teeth before heading back to her bedroom. On the way she passed Mason's bedroom, and she stuck her head around his door, peering in. Impeccably tidy, this wasn't the usual teenage boys' bedroom. Clothes were folded neatly away in the pale wooden drawers on the far wall, textbooks and reading books were stacked in alphabetical order in the bookshelf, his guitar rested against the side of his wardrobe, unused, and the white sheets were pulled taught over the bed's mattress. It was very familiar to her.

Mason and Embry had always been close, although she still remembered the looks he gave her as she walked through the door two years ago. At the time he had been sixteen, only a year older than her. But still, he regarded her as though she was something Tiffany had dragged in. They had put those looks behind them now. Suzi and Chris Leighton had been extremely friendly, Dimana glad to have another girl to play with, and Ollie too young to even talk. For some reason, which she still didn't know, Embry had felt like she belonged here, and she grew to love them quickly, as they did her.

The girl and the cat moved on now to Embry's own bedroom, where she changed into the same cotton nighty. Quickly she flicked the light switch and it was dark, so she used her familiarity of the place to clamber into bed and pull the sheets up over her cold body. Softly Tiffany jumped up, curling into a ball next to Embry's head, where chestnut hair was spilling over the white pillows in gentle waves. Normally she wouldn't be tired at this time, but all the emotional stress she had been through today had seemed to draw the energy out of her, rendering her a tired mess. For a while she lay there, unable to sleep, then she began to do a relaxing exercise Harry had taught her. Starting with her feet, she relaxed them, laying on her back and letting them fall naturally. Then she moved up to her legs and repeated the process. By the time she made it to her shoulders, she had succumbed to sleep.

" _How was work?" Embry said timidly, placing her floral print school bag on one of the dining chairs and removing her coat. Across from her on the other side of the dining table was her father. In his hands was a bottle of some strong alcohol, and he looked up at his daughter, annoyance on his face. He sneered._

" _You're late," he growled, slamming the bottle onto the table. Clear liquid flew from the top onto the table which he noticed with drowsy eyes, but he ignored it. "Where have you been?" Thirteen year old Embry wasn't sure if she should tell the truth or not, knowing he would get angry either way._

" _I was uh," she began hesitantly, "w-with Alice. We were w-working on a history p-project." She hung her coat neatly on the chair, heading to the kitchen. As she passed her father she felt something lock around her wrist in an iron like hold. Surprised, she looked down at the fathers fingers which were wrapped so tightly on her wrist that red marks were beginning to form, and then back up at him. "Y-yes dad?"_

" _You're lying to me." Embry's eyes widened and her heart beat increased. It was a tiny lie! She had gone to Alice's with the intention of working on her history project, but in the end they had just sat around making dance routines and winding up her Alice's brother. Surely he couldn't be able to tell that just by looking at her?_

" _N-no, I promise, I'm not lying to you," Embry stammered, fearfully trying to tug away from his strong grasp._

" _You little bitch," he snarled, moving his red face closer to hers, and she could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. The small girl flinched away, but he held her in place, getting dangerously close now. This wasn't going to end well._

" _No! No, Dad, I promise! P-please!" His hand cracked across her cheek. Recoiling away, tears began to stream down Embry's face now, and she backed up against the wall. Her father stood now, abandoning the bottle on the table, and she held still, not wanting to anger him further. "Dad… please…" She whimpered, knowing what his anger could entail. The bruise over her left eye had only just faded, and she had been forced to pretend she had tripped and stumbled into a lamppost. He glared at her and she tilted her head to the side away from him in fear. She heard his heavy footfall go past her and into the kitchen. Breathing a sigh of relief, she moved from the wall back to her bag._

 _The zipper made a noise as she opened it, pulling out her school books to take to her bedroom to do homework. Perhaps she was the only child who looked forward to getting homework. It gave her an excuse to escape the monster she had to live with. Distracted, Embry didn't hear the now quiet pads of feet on the floor, until they were practically behind her. She threw her head up in alarm and turned, gasping._

 _At first a warm sensation seemed to be spreading through her middle, and there was something warm on her hands too, but it was sticky. Blood. Very quickly the warmth turned to pain, the worst pain she had ever felt, like she was on fire, or as though the fire was inside her. As she looked down at her scarlet hands, she saw the handle of the knife protruding from her stomach, and she screamed, crumpling down to her knees. The last thing she saw before she passed out was her father, grinning down at her, blood covering his hands too._

Embry thrashed around in her bed, getting angry at whoever was screaming, wanting them to be quiet so she could go back to sleep. It took a while for her to wake up and realise she was the one screaming, and notice that someone had their hands firmly on her shoulders and was saying her name over and over again.

"Embry! What's wrong? Wake up! Embry? Embry!" Green eyes flew open and she froze. The beats of her heart were frantic. There was a sheen of sweat on her whole body, sticking her hair to her neck and her back to the bed sheets. "Embry, are you okay?"

"YOU DID THIS TO ME!" She screamed, sitting up and tightening her hands into fists. Repeatedly she slammed her fists onto the bloody painter's chest, but she was too tired and scared to actually hurt him. "You… you BASTARD!" She yelled again, tears streaming down her cheeks which were flushed red. Bewildered, the bloody painter just stood there letting her hit him, looking down at the hysterical girl. A loud sob tore its way up Embry's throat.

Gently the bloody painter caught her hands in his own large ones and held them against his chest. She fought back viciously, tugging at his grip and sobbing louder and louder, throwing random curse words at him.

"Please calm down, Embry," he said, panicked, looking out the window for the flash of blue lights. "Screaming when there's a killer in town is not a good idea."

"Fuck you," she snapped, although she said it weakly, submitting herself to the tears. Weakly she fell forward, wrapping her arms around his chest and sobbing into his shirt. Perplexed, he dropped his arms down to his sides, staying as still as possible. The voice in his mind seethed, telling him to kill… Kill the girl… With a low growl he silenced it. He sunk gently down to the bed, sitting on the edge. Embry leaned over, somehow crawling into his lap, shaking like a leaf. He remained still, not wanting to push himself too far, but wanting to comfort her at the same time.

"Do you… um… want to talk about it?" He asked awkwardly, looking down at Embry, who had soaked the front of his shirt. He felt her shake her head and tighten her grip on him. "You didn't lock your window like I told you to," he said, a little anger creeping into his voice. Embry made a strange noise, something between a laugh and a sob.

"You didn't have to come in," she said shakily, raising her pretty face up to him. As always he had his mask on. Part of her hoped he wouldn't have, but that was a stupid thought. However, she did notice that he wasn't wearing his 'signature' outfit. Instead, he wore blue jeans which had rips in the knees, although she was sure that they wouldn't have been bought like that, a white shirt and brown hiking shoes on his feet. For a killer, it was a very casual outfit.

"Well, no, that was the whole reason I told you to lock it. I was trying to stay away from you. I was doing quite well staying away from you, just wandering the streets. But when I heard you scream I became worried, for some reason which I'm not sure, and I found your window was unlocked. It really would be better if you locked it." She made the strange noise again and pushed herself backward, a sheepish expression on her face.

"I'm sorry about your shirt," she muttered, looking down in fear. The bloody painter shrugged, turning towards her.

"So are you going to tell me what all that was about?" He asked, looking into her eyes. The eyes were a good place to look, he decided, a safe place, a respectful place. He had, however, noticed that her nighty had ridden up like when he had drawn her, showing her underwear. Desperately he tried to ignore it.

"It was a nightmare," she answered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. It came away wet, as expected.

"Must have been a pretty bad nightmare," he answered with a little smile, which she returned, tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. Gracefully she crossed her legs beneath her, sitting opposite him.

"You can't imagine," she answered softly, picking at her fingernails rather than looking at him. There were a few pieces of loose skin and nail hanging off her fingers from the previous day, when she had clawed at the smiley face in the wood. As she picked at it she winced, and blood rose up on one of her fingers. The bloody painter placed his hand on top of hers quickly to prevent her from continuing.

"Stop that," he murmured, quickly moving his hand again. "You would be surprised what I know and imagine, Embry." She jumped a little when he said her name, the reality of what was happening finally dawning on her. They were having a normal conversation. Or, better than that, he was comforting her. Maybe tomorrow he would go back to being the hostile, angry man she had come to know.

"Have you ever been stabbed?" She asked him suddenly, looking up to meet his eyes, or at least the black painted on ones on his mask. Slowly he shook his head, looking straight back at her.

"Shot a couple of times, but no, never stabbed."

"I have been." Carefully she grabbed the hem of her nighty and raised it up, revealing her stomach. Lightly she ran her fingertips over the scar that ran along the right side of her abdomen, shuddering at the feeling, because the scar tissue was still very sensitive. Coupled with the nightmare she had just had, she felt vulnerable showing it to him. The bloody painter fisted his hands in the bed sheets as he saw the scar, it triggering up the voice again. It wanted him to drag his knife across the scar and open up the wound again, before slitting her wrists and drawing a smiley face on her cheek… Now it was his turn to shudder.

"Who did that to you?" He asked in curiosity, trying to distract himself at the same time. Embry took a deep, shuddering breath, and decided she was going to tell him.

"My father." He gasped and she looked down once more, fighting tears again. "I was thirteen." The bloody painter didn't say anything, waiting for her to answer. She continued. "My mother and father always seemed to be fighting, and she seemed scared of him. I never knew why. Then, when I turned twelve, she was diagnosed with a vicious form of cancer. She tied the day after I turned thirteen." She took another breath, trying to calm herself, but she felt a traitor tear slip down her cheek. "My dad became a heavy drinker, much heavier than what he used to be. Then I started to find out why my mom was so scared of him, when he started hitting me. He was very abusive and I did all I could to stay away from him. Then one night he grew angry for no reason, and he stabbed me. The last thing I saw was him grinning at me." Embry hadn't noticed the bloody painter move towards her. Carefully he laid a bare hand on her shoulder, the glove in his other, still gloved, hand.

"I am so very sorry," he whispered. With his words she couldn't take it anymore, and more tears fell from her green eyes, and once again she was sobbing. "Embry, it's still early. Try to go back to sleep." She peered towards the window and saw that it was indeed still dark.

"I won't be able to now," she said, her hand instinctively flying to her scar. Suddenly she blushed pink and pulled down the hem of her nighty again, not realising it was still hitched around her waist.

"Try." She looked up at him through the tears and gave a small smile. His hand, still resting on her shoulder, moved up and gently stroked her cheek. Embry smiled, bigger this time. "Lie down." Carefully she fell back, her head on the pillow. His hand gently brushed her neck as he pulled the covers back over her, before stepping back. "You want me to go?"

"No," she answered quickly, "please stay. I hate being alone." The bloody painter took a few steps back, grabbed her white bean bag and headed over to the radiator. He seemed to use it as a cushion to lean on as he sunk to the floor, making a temporary bed. "Goodnight Bloody Painter," she whispered into the dark, closing her eyes. For a while he didn't reply, as though he was deliberating over something.

"It's Helen," he whispered back, "Helen Otis."

 **I hope you liked this, as you can see things are getting interesting ;) Please drop a review!**

 **TINT xxxxxxx**


	10. Just curious

**Hey! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update this story. I've got a week off school now so maybe I can make the updates more frequent. I hope you're enjoying this story and please read and review! Don't forget to read my new story, 'Secrets!'**

When Embry woke she knew instantly that she wasn't alone. Empty space surrounded her in the bed and cold air seeped beneath the sheets as she moved, but still the shallow sound of breathing filled her ears. Each breath was too widely spaced and uneven to be her own. Carefully she sat up, her russet waves spilling down over pale shoulders and her back, looking around with wide eyes. The frantic movements of the green orbs came to rest on a figure huddled by the radiator. Straight away she knew they were awake, not only because their breath wasn't that of a sleeping person (unless perhaps they were having a nightmare) but because they were tensed up, their shoulders tight rather than relaxed. Even so, Embry felt the need to clarify.

"You awake?" Embry whispered at him, squinting through the light that fell onto her face through a gap in the curtains. Her answer came in the form of a small sigh. After the sigh came a groan, and then the bloody painter gracefully stretched his arms in front of him, catlike. Another groan came with the stretch.

"No. I'm tired. I'm sleeping. Shut up," he said. Cracking slightly from first use, his voice wavered. Embry giggled at him. Later she would pass it off as being delirious from sleep. Whatever the reason for the giggle, the bloody painter chuckled back at her, stretching his legs out too.

"Not tired enough to be remotely kind, though," she teased, rolling onto her back, kicking the sheets away from her body. A smile passed across her face when the sound of crackling paper didn't occur. "You know," she began, "I had a dream last night that your name was Helen." She giggled and turned her head to watch him. Whereas before he had been nice to watch, sleepy and grumpy and graceful, now she felt like she had to look away. He became hostile in response to her words, shoulders tensing and hands closing into tight fists.

"I forgot I told you that," he mumbled. Then with a much clearer voice he said, "that wasn't a dream, Embry." He turned his head accusingly towards her. The mask on his face was slightly askew, revealing a narrow strip of skin from his temple to his ear, and all she could take in was that he was _so pale._ It made her wonder how often he would actually take his mask off, then realised it probably wasn't often. When his voice came again her eyes snapped up, away from the strip of skin and to the painted on black eyes. "My name really is Helen Otis and you really were begging me to stay last night. It was quite comical." _Ouch._ That was rather harsh. When he had admitted his real name he seemed reluctant to speak, so maybe he had felt the need to defend himself. She wasn't sure, but it had been rude all the same.

"It didn't take much to persuade you to stay though, did it?" Embry fired back. He flinched. Obviously he didn't like taking things to a more personal level.

"My cabin doesn't have heating." Maybe that was the truth, but maybe he was just covering up the weak spot she had just discovered. A grin cracked across her face at that thought.

"Sure," she said.

Another, final groan escaped Helen's lips and he stood, trembling slightly from his sleep-stiffened joints. Carefully he raised his hand and straightened his mask. A small wave of disappointment crossed her. She knew his real name, so surely next could be his face?

It hadn't quite occurred to her how odd this situation truly was. There was a murderer in her house. It seemed as though they were becoming friends. Or at least tolerating each other. She had only just found out said murderers real name. She didn't know what he looked like. He could be anyone. It was just so strange.

"Did you sleep okay?" She asked, sitting up so she didn't feel so awkward with him now standing. With a shrug he picked up the bean bag and placed it back where it had been before. There was a small popping noise as he stretched his leg out making Embry cringe.

"It was warm," he replied curtly, turning back to her. She noticed his fists were still tight by his side and longed to reach out and uncurl his fingers, letting him relax. "Also, I hope you have a logical reason for why I'm in your house because your brother is here." Embry gasped just as the sound of the front door being unlocked sounded. They wouldn't be able to open it because she had left the deadbolt done up.

" _Go,"_ she hissed, pointing to the window. Chuckling, he moved over to the ledge and opened the window up as far as it could go. Curiosity made Embry stay to watch him as he slid his legs outside the window, dangling in the air. Then he reached over and grabbed a thick branch of the tree outside and swung, relying on his strength to hold him in the air. With a small grunt he swung, then released his hold, falling down and landing lithely on the floor. Embry wondered how many times he had had to jump from a significant height.

Someone knocked on her front door. Quickly she slammed the window shut, then, tearing herself away from Helen who had turned back and waved before sprinting off across her garden and hauling himself over the wooden fence off into the woods, she ran down the stairs. A quick peek through the glass on the door showed her that it was Mason, so she slid the deadbolt undone and hauled the door open. With a smile she stepped back and let him through, then frowned when he shut the door behind him.

"Where are the others?" She asked, allowing Mason to pull her into a hug. Like usual he smelt slightly of cinnamon and of boy, and she breathed it in, liking the familiarity. All she could remember of Helen's smell was the sharp scent of blood and salt and sweat when he had pushed her up against the wall. It wasn't a bad smell, oddly nice.

"Mom was worrying about you, so she sent me down even though you didn't want me to. She sent me on the earliest train." Mason pulled back from the hug and gave her a funny look. "You're still in your night clothes?"

"Yeah, I only just got up. I had a rough night." She winced as she thought of the nightmare, although it was more of a memory. A nightmarish memory. "When will they be back?"

"Mom and Dad were talking with the mechanics a lot, so I think whatever is wrong with the car is serious. They would have come back anyway but our Aunt offered us a place to stay. She'll phone me tonight and let me know when they will be back."

"I bet Dimana is loving it," Embry said with a giggle. Dimana was always spoilt by her relatives, not for any other reason than the fact that she could wrap everyone around her little finger. She was such a sweet little girl.

"Do you want breakfast? I haven't eaten at all so I was going to make myself some," Mason said, and Embry nodded, accepting his offer, breaking away from her small reverie. Her brother went past her into the kitchen and she followed after him, although she found they had nothing much to say. A little awkwardly he asked, "what have you been up to?"

"Nothing much. Finished that painting, and did some…. Stuff," she answered, biting her lip when she didn't know what to say. "There haven't been any more murders, just to let you know." Why did she say that? Mason turned to look at her and gave her another funny look.

"Is _that_ why you had the deadlock done up?" Embry realised that she could pass this all off as fear and was grateful that he had given her and easy way out. She tried to contort her face into one of nerves, but stopped when she felt her eye twitch.

"Mason, there's a murderer in town. Who wouldn't have their deadlock on?" He seemed to buy it and gave a small chuckle, turning his attention back to making the food. Whilst he was cooking she laid the table, avoiding the chair where Helen had sat yesterday. Soon they ate breakfast, talking about his trip and other things, but conversation didn't come easily. In the end Mason said he was going out. A little taken aback, Embry agreed, and set about cleaning the plates. Her brother disappeared upstairs.

As she cleaned and dried the plates she wondered where Helen was, what he was doing, if he was okay. It surprised her that she was thinking about him so much. He had said he had a cabin, so was he there? Someone knocking on the front door pulled her out of her reverie, and she grabbed a dish cloth, drying her hands as she walked to the door. Without caution she opened the door and saw her brothers friend stood there.

Sam and her had always been very close. She was attracted to his sharp good looks, all plains and cheekbones and cheeky grins. He was attracted to her, for whatever reason, and was always flirting with her, as much as it annoyed Mason. As always he was dressed smart-casual and there were sunglasses balancing on the tip of his nose even though it was cold outside. She supposed the sun could be bright. As soon as she had opened the door he had grinned, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

"It's nice to see you," he said, teasing her slightly with his crooked grin. Usually her heart did a weird flippy-thing when he gave her that grin, but it didn't today, and her won smile faltered slightly.

"And you Sam," she replied, ushering him inside. "You here for Mason?" He turned to her.

"That was the plan, but I can change it?" He chuckled when she laughed, dodging her arm which flung out to punch him playfully.

"You're way too confident," she joked, but there was a warning behind it, letting him know she wasn't really interested in his flirting and casual touches today. She wasn't really sure why. "Mason!" She shouted up the stairs and seconds later her older brother appeared, his hair freshly styled up and wearing a new outfit.

"I'll see you later Embry," Mason said quickly, lightly touching her shoulder as he yanked open the door. Sam said nothing but as he walked past he twirled a lock of her russet hair around his finger. Then, as she went to close the door, he raised his sunglasses with one hand and very deliberately winked at her.

"I like your outfit by the way," he told her before laughing and running to catch up to Mason. Quickly Embry looked down. Warmth spread across her cheeks as she realised she was still in her very short, white cotton nightdress. Well crap.

After the boys left she turned back into the house, padding through the rooms quietly, her bare feet hitting the cold ground making her shiver. Quickly she went up the stairs, taking them two at a time. In her bedroom she threw on clothes: A black and white striped shirt, blue jean shorts, black tights, brown shoes and belt, and muted red cardigan. For some reason she felt the need to dress nicely. Maybe it was because she knew Helen noticed the little things about her.

Thinking about Helen, Embry wandered over the window, wanting to look at the tree to work out how the hell he was able to get up and down it without falling or hurting himself. As soon as she reached the window she jumped back, her hand flying to her heart.

"Jesus, Helen!" She yelled, quickly opening the window to let him through. The black eyes of his mask bore into her own, but with the black light she could see something behind the tiny holes which he looked through, a glint of icy blue… She moved her eyes off of his own and stepped back, letting him gracefully crawl through the window from where he had been balancing on a thick tree branch. "What the fuck are you still doing here? You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Well you didn't expect me to just leave, did you? I was curious," Helen answered, landing steadily on his feet. Quickly he reached behind him and shut the window. Somehow he managed to do that silently, compared to Embry who would have managed to make a loud slamming noise. With his words a small smile crossed her lips. When was Helen not curious?

"Next time you could warn me," she answered, stepping back to keep the space between them. Since the previous night things had been more comfortable between them, but the thought of the two women with the smiley faces carved into their cheeks couldn't be erased from her mind.

"If I remember right, _you_ were the one kicking me out of the house. I didn't leave by choice so I felt I had permission to come back." Embry shook her head in disbelief. Logic like that explained a lot about the way he acted. "So who was that boy?" Helen asked, leaning against her bedroom wall and picking at his cuticles.

"My brother," Embry replied a little cautiously, worried that she was endangering Mason. That was the last thing she wanted, to let him hurt anyone else. At least for now he seemed to be distracted and hadn't killed anyone else. "He's come back to keep me company but I think he wanted to go out. Sometimes it can be a little awkward between us."

"I know who your brother is," Helen answered, moving his head quickly and she knew he was looking at her. "There are pictures of him all around the house and I'm not stupid. I meant the other boy… The one who touched your hair." Embry felt herself blush and supressed a nervous giggle. Had Helen really noticed Sam do that? He stopped moving, his eyes on her, inquisitive. "Is that boy something to you?" This time his voice wasn't as soft; there was a harder edge, almost as though he didn't want an answer. It confused her.

"No, no not at all!" She was too quick to answer and she saw Helen's mask lift along with his eyebrows. "No, there's nothing between me and Sam," she said controlling her voice this time, "we are just… friends." _Just friends._ It sounded strange in her own ears. "Why?"

"Just curious." He said that so much that it was starting to grate on Embry's nerves. With a small tut she turned from him slightly. Was there anything he wasn't curious about.

"Why do you do it?" She asked him suddenly. "Kill people, I mean. And don't say you were just curious about the way the human body works because I know that's a lie."

"Careful Embry," Helen cautioned her, "talking about it without warning me first isn't exactly the smartest idea." Part of her told her not to ask the questions that sprung to mind when he said that so she stayed quiet, doing as he said. Silence washed over the room and then he spoke again. "I'm going to show you my place."

 **Thank you for reading this chapter! Please review. It makes my day! Also, I'm considering writing a chapter of this in Helen's POV, drop a review or PM me saying if you think that's a good idea or not. Thanks again, TINT xxxxxx**


	11. Sorry guys!

Hey guys. I'm so sorry that I've been updating this so much. I made a stupid decision to delete a chapter and it sent the reviews to the wrong chapters and basically loads of shit that went wrong. It really annoyed me so I have just had to completely re-publish this, so yeah, I am sorry. Please check out my newest chapter and the one before that, chapter nine: Helen Otis. Many thanks, TINT xxx


	12. You won't hurt me

**Hi! So my plan of updating frequently didn't go to plan, sorry about that. I am lacking enthusiasm at the moment to publish things because my other story, secrets, isn't getting any attention at all! This story is and I would like to thank you for that but please, go and check out my other story! Also, please read and review, and PM me for a chat or to talk about my story!**

Embry laughed. After a moment of her giggling at Helen whilst he stared back completely confused, she finally said, "you're joking, right?" Laughing again, she stepped back and leaned against her bedroom wall. Helen's eyes followed after her and he cleared his throat.

"Actually, no I'm not, but if you don't want to that's fine. It would probably be best if you said no anyway." Seriousness laced his voice and she ceased her laughing, raising her eyebrows. A moment ago everything between them had been okay, no tension or fear, but now part of it was back. Helen answered her unasked question. "At the moment I have control over myself. If you say no I could probably just leave, like earlier. If you come with me where I'm in my place I could lose control and…" He trailed off suggestively. Natural instinct told Embry to shrink down and be submissive to him, but instead she took a deep breath and stood straighter, looking him in the eyes.

"You won't hurt me," she breathed, the confidence in her body not reflecting in her voice. Behind his mask Helen's face was disapproving scowl. Embry smiled in victory when he didn't protest to her words and pushed her back off the wall. "We have until it's dark so let's go." With a low groan of annoyance, mostly at himself, he gracefully turned towards the window.

"I'll go first to help you down," he said softly. When Embry didn't move he turned back curiously to see a smirk on her face. "What?" She burst out laughing again and he huffed, not seeing what was funny.

"Helen," Embry said between giggles, "we are alone. We can use the front door." As she laughed he pretended to join in, but she could sense something dark and sarcastic behind it. Instantly she stopped laughing and he mimicked her.

"Yes Embry, what a great idea! Why didn't I think of that? Let's just walk out into the street in broad daylight together, no one will be suspicious!" He laughed again for emphasis then stormed forward, grabbing her arm roughly and shoving her towards the window. She felt her knees collide with the wall and then he was picking her up and shoving her out of it and she felt herself falling. With a little shriek she put her arms in front of her, bracing herself for impact even though she would probably break both her arms, except suddenly they were both pinned up, and she wasn't falling. Her eyes opened with a start.

Helen stood above her in the window, clutching her arms with his strong hands. Although she couldn't see his face she knew he was smirking. A stream of curses flooded up to her mouth, burning her tongue, but she held them back. In such a precarious situation the last thing she wanted was to piss the bloody painter off.

"Still sure I won't hurt you?" He growled almost playfully, clearly enjoying himself. Embry suddenly realised that there was some part of him there wanting to let her go and see her body hit the ground, breaking. When she didn't answer he made a low sound at the back of his throat and let go of one of her hands. Embry shrieked again.

"For fucks sake Helen!" She hissed. Laughing he hauled her back up so she was perched on the window ledge with her back against his chest. Then, in a single deft movement, he picked her up and placed her steadily on her feet, safely back inside. "You little-"

"Now now, Embry, don't make me do that again," he teased, a laugh slipping from his mouth. Yes, he _was_ having a lot of fun. "Let me go first, then I can catch you." The idea of trusting him to catch her made Embry feel a little sick. But, she thought, he was perfectly in control of the previous situation. This was the only way, after all. She pulled on some boots which were lying in the corner of her room.

In seconds he had disappeared out of the window in the same fashion as earlier. However this time, rather than just standing in awe as he gracefully descended from such a height, Embry watched the way he moved to grab the tree branch and how he swung so carefully so that he didn't lose his grip. Taking a deep breath she memorised it, hoping that she would be able to mimic his actions so well to be able to land by herself.

It didn't go to plan.

Embry screamed as her fingers slipped from the tree branch. Something warm broke her fall, gripping her hard, probably bruising her pale skin. For a while she sat still with her legs and arms wrapped around the warmth, shaking from the adrenaline that now coursed through her. A strong musky scent filled her nose. Timidly she moved her face out of Helen's soldier. It hurt a little to see that he had turned his face completely away from her and his entire body was strained. Not wanting to be there any longer she prised her shaking fingers out of his shirt and dropped to the floor, stumbling, shrugging away from his hand which reached out to steady her.

"Can we go then, before I change my mind?" Embry asked, smoothing out her russet hair. "Unless you've changed your mind of course." When she got no answer she looked up to see he wasn't in front of her. Looking around quickly she found him, already at the other side of the garden, stood by the fence. "Okay then…" she muttered under her breath, walking towards him.

Helen helped Embry over the fence by giving her a leg up and she landed steadily on her feet. Hell, she was already getting good at that. The killer emerged almost instantly behind her, somehow hurdling it. Without a glance back he started walking forwards into the woods.

For a while they just walked in silence, Helen moving soundlessly ahead and Embry tripping over hidden roots and her own feet. She was making an awful racket and she was surprised he hadn't turned around to criticise her, but he remained looking ahead, walking at a steady pace. After around fifteen minutes she felt her patience slipping. Going on long walks was something she had always hated, and now here she was, hiking with a killer.

"Are we almost there yet?" She called out, risking a gentle jog to come alongside him. Once again Helen had to reach an arm out to steady her as she tripped over a snaking root, hidden amongst a bunch of leaves and thorns.

"What are you, five?" He snapped. Embry kept quiet, falling into step behind him again. They walked for another ten minutes before they appeared into a small clearing. Well, not so much of a clearing, just a little space where trees weren't growing. Instead the space was occupied by what appeared to be a wooden cabin. It was old and crumbling but Embry thought it was beautiful. Once, a long time ago, when it would have stood in all its glory, she would have been too scared to enter, not wanting to disturb how peaceful it would have looked. Now, the sight of the cabin alone had her fingers itching to draw it, crumbling parts and all and explore it's abandoned rooms. A smile crossed her face.

"This is where you live?" She breathed.

"It's where I stay, for now at least."

Helen continued forward from where they had paused, going up to the door. Just a tiny push sent it open, and like a true gentlemen, he held it for Embry, who walked past with a little smile. Inside it was dark; most of the windows were boarded up with crossed wooden planks, nailed across. She wondered if Helen had done that, then averted her eyes to the rest. Currently they were in a little corridor leading to an even darker room ahead. Squinting, Embry could see dark shadows which she made out to be furniture, meaning it was probably the living room. There was a door next to her which, when she hesitantly reached her fingers out to touch the cold metal of the door knob, she discovered was locked. To her left was a little arch which led into a kitchen. Helen waited behind her, watching her explore, lighting a match carefully. Although it was only a little light it was enough for Embry to be able to see that the floor and walls seemed to be made of wood. Helen then passed her a candle.

Embry stepped forward using the candle to light her way. There were random objects on the floor which she had to step over- a broken chair, a fallen broom, an umbrella. A feeling of unease settled over her. It was cold and dark and it just reminded her of a horror movie. She laughed at that thought, realising she was with a serial killer. Fortunately, this killer had decided to spare her for some reason.

The living room was large and very open, with only two cushioned chairs and one rocking, a fireplace, a bookshelf and a desk. There were two doors leading off from the room, one she assumed to be a bedroom and the other presumably a bathroom. Taking a guess at which was what she opened the door into what she hoped was the bedroom. She was right.

A single bed was pushed against the far corner of the room with dull looking covers. It didn't look comfortable. Embry walked across the room to the wooden wardrobe there, opening it and peering inside. As expected, his blue jacket hung on a hanger, the smiley face badge still pinned onto it. There were a handful of jeans and shirt and jumpers, and a few different boots at the bottom.

"Where did you get all these clothes?" She asked, then almost instantly regretted it. Helen, who had been following her around, frowned beneath his mask. He didn't really want to tell the girl knowing that it would hurt and shock her, but he hated lying. If you asked him a question you had to be sure you wanted an answer.

"I… borrowed them," he offered in a soft voice. A nervous giggle escaped Embry's lips. _Borrowed._ Something told her the real owners of these clothes would never be able to ask for them back. "Come on Embry," he said when he saw her shiver, assuming it was from the cold. It wasn't. "I'll get the fire going." Embry turned back and followed him out to the living room again.

Helen crouched by the fire trying to set it alight whilst Embry settled herself in one of the chairs, suddenly feeling claustrophobic that she couldn't see outside at all. After the door had shut behind them they were stuck inside. Another shiver ran its way up her spine. Eventually Helen stood and behind him she could see the faint orange glow which meant he had succeeded. Gracefully he took a seat in the other chair, resting his elbow on the arm and his chin in his propped up hand.

"Can I ask you a few questions, whilst we are here?" The killer asked her abruptly, disrupting the silence that had settled other than the crackling from the fire. Rather than replying Embry just nodded. "Why do you like it with your new family?" Embry sighed. Starting hard.

"As soon as I met them I liked the house and the area and they were kind to me. I never had any sibling company so I liked having an older brother to look after me and younger ones to look after, to give me something to do. After I stayed with them for a trial we just bonded; they liked me and I liked them. So they adopted me." She hoped he would understand. Instead of replying he just fired off with the next question, surprising Embry.

"What do you do for fun?"

"I paint, draw, play piano… Lots of creative things." He nodded as if he understood.

"What's your middle name?" That made a smile cross her lips. Embry didn't have a middle name according to the legal documents, but she decided to name herself anyway to keep a memory of one of her old friends.

"Eva. She was my best friend before…" she trailed off knowing he knew what event she was referring to. This time, instead of ploughing straight on to another question he started laughing. She couldn't see the humour. "What's so funny?"

"Your initials," he answered with a chuckle. "Embry Eva Leighton- eel. I hate sea creatures." Embry couldn't help but laugh too. After a short moment Helen continued. "What was your old surname?"

"Harper. My parents were called Xander and Catherine." After that Helen proceeded to fire a never ending stream of questions at her. Some were simple such as her favourite colour (blue) and her favourite animal (cat.) But others were more complicated, like when he asked her if she missed her real parents. She answered that she could never miss her father but she missed her mother terribly, and then she had to explain to Helen about why she had never stood up to her father. That question was the most complicated, meaning all the others were easy to answer until:

"Are you scared of me?"

Embry looked up from the loose thread she was picking in her cardigan to see him leaning towards her in his chair. Common sense told her she needed to choose her words carefully.

"I thought we covered this earlier when you threw me out the window." With a sigh she looked back down. "Of course I'm still scared of you. You're a killer and every moment I spend with you is putting my life in danger, I know that. I just don't believe that you could hurt me anymore." Helen cocked his head to the side, curious. "When you first spoke to me you were full of anger and you were _ready_ to kill me. That's why I tried to make you because I thought it would be quick and easy. Then somehow you stopped yourself. The anger, that's gone now, hasn't it? Sometimes you get angry and threaten me, but I think that's more to reassure yourself that you are still the dangerous killer you've made yourself into than to scare me. I would even go as far to say that I think you're beginning to enjoy my company. You could hurt me, but no, you won't."

"Stand up," he ordered, his voice full of danger. Dread washed over her. Had she got it all wrong? Was he about to kill her? Did he bring her here just for that purpose? Quickly she stood. Helen was up then too, walking slowly towards her. Embry closed her eyes.

Something strong and warm wrapped around her and her eyes flew open in surprise. Helen was stood next to her, although it wasn't exactly next to her as there wasn't any distance between them, hugging her. His face was buried in the crook of her neck and his soft black hair tickled her cheek, making her blush ever so slightly. As per usual of him she could smell the sharp metallic scent of blood and something muskier, something she really liked. Gently she reached her arms up and hugged him back. Under her hands his back was warm and hard, strong.

"Embry, I-" He began, but she never did find out what he was going to say, because at that exact moment a deafening gunshot sounded and one of the boarded up windows shattered.

 **Hope you liked it! Many thanks for reading and for the continued support, TINT xxxxxxxx**


	13. Familiar faces

**Just a quick note- all the characters used in my stories are my own versions of them. They won't stick exactly to the original story because I love to give my own interpretations of them.**

 **I'm (not) sorry for leaving you on such a cliff hanger! Brace yourselves for this chapter… It's all about to go wrong…**

 **Read and review please xx**

"Helen, what the fuck was that?" Embry hissed. Both of their eyes were fixed on the now shattered glass. Fear slipped down her spine when Helen didn't respond, sending a shiver through her bones and making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Another gunshot rang out. Startled, Embry jumped back away from Helen who seemed to come out of his shock. When her green eyes fell down to his hand, she wasn't surprised to see a knife already.

"Get behind the door and don't you _dare_ move," he growled, slinking towards the window. Doing as he said, Embry squeezed behind the door and barely risked taking a breath, but worry kicked in and she couldn't resist poking her head around the side of the heavy wood, watching Helen. Bravely he had got to the window, pressing his back against the wall next to it. Quickly he took a glance out of the window and swore.

"Helen… Talk to me." Fear creeped into her voice now, making it shake and waver. Quickly he ran over, ducking so he could remain unseen.

"They're here. I don't know how, but they've found this place. We have to go, to get out… I'm sorry. I've out you in so much danger-" Embry shushed him, and pulled him back behind the door.

"Don't. I don't want you to apologise. I just want to get both of us safely out of here."

"That's not going to happen. They know I'm here… somehow. The ground outside is hard enough that we didn't leave footprints, so as far as they know I'm alone. That means you can get out of here safely." He sounded sad, and as Embry took in his words, she realised why with a heavy heart. "Embry, this may be the last time I see you." Tears welled up in her eyes. "Ssh… don't cry." Gently he pulled a glove off his hand and wiped a tear of her cheek with his thumb. Suddenly a wave of confidence came over her and she bit back the tears.

Ever so slowly she lifted her pale, trembling hands, brushing past Helen's chest and up to the very edge of his mask. She heard him suck in a breath as he realised what she was doing, but he made no move to stop her. This brought a smile to her lips.

"If this is the last time I'm going to 'see' you… I want to actually _see_ you." Taking a shaky breath Helen nodded. Carefully she hooked her fingers around the bottom of the mask, ignoring the third gunshot.

First a small strip of pale skin was revealed. It was pale it looked unhealthy, like he hadn't been out in the sun enough. Next were his full, pink lips and then his nose, which was sharp and angular. Surprisingly he was clean shaven, his skin soft and smooth to the touch when she ever so gently ran her fingers over his high-set cheekbones. Then, finally, Embry reached what she had been most anticipating.

His eyes were piercing. The colour of deep blue sapphire, framed with long lashes that touched his brow bone, they were stunning. Embry paused for just a moment to take them in, lost in their depths, amazed to finally be looking at him and seeing him look back at her. Still lost in them, she barely noticed as her hands dropped back down to her sides. Helen reached up instead to take the mask fully off. Ashy brown hair fell around his face, framing it perfectly even though it was slightly too long and shaggy. Embry didn't care.

"Embry…" A smile formed on her lips as he said her name, and she stared in wonder as his lips pulled up too. She would keep that memory of his smile forever. Someone shouted for Helen to go outside with his hands above his head. He didn't move, and she watched as he pocketed his knife and placed his hands on her waist, keeping hold of the mask. "If you aren't going to let me apologise for putting you in so much danger, at least let me promise you I'm going to try and get you out of this danger now. I'm going to lead them off and they will follow me. When I've gone, leave the cabin through the window in the bedroom, and run forward. There's a path there that will lead you to a road eventually. Just run and don't look back. If they find your footprints you lie, you make up something that I kidnapped you, that you ran for your own safety when you got the opportunity. Don't try and save me. If they catch me, it doesn't matter what you say. And if they don't then it doesn't either. Do you understand me?" Tears started running down her face again now as she nodded.

"I understand," she whispered back, her voice barely audible. Helen moved forward, pulling Embry against his body. She could feel the strong, steady beating of his heart, full of energy and life, through his chest. As he towered over her he had to crane his neck down to put his face next to her, but he moved forward until his lips brushed her ear. Embry shivered.

"Until I see you again, remember me with this…" Helen pulled back and slowly, oh so slowly, moved his lips to press them to hers. It wasn't much of a kiss, but the emotions behind it was everything it needed. Sadness, fear, anger, love. And then, almost as quick as the kiss itself, Helen was gone.

Embry stayed behind the door, frozen, tears spilling relentlessly down her face. He was gone. He was gone and she had only just got him. Only when she heard shouts and gunshots did she remember what he had told her to do. Rather than mourn over her loss, she thought, she would honour his requests.

Hurriedly she went to the window, catching a brief view of Helen sprinting into the trees, chased by around ten officers. A sob tore from her throat as she tore away from the window. _'Leave the cabin through the window in the bedroom.'_ Embry ran.

Where was the window? She looked around but all she could see were boarded up holes where the windows used to be. Surely he couldn't expect her to break it down? That's when she looked up higher. There was a tiny window up there, the only one not boarded up with wood. But how would she get up there? Letting out a frustrated moan she started to pull at her hair, begging herself to think. Eventually she formed a plan. It wasn't good, and hell, it probably wouldn't even work, but it was still a plan.

Another cry of frustration left her lips as she pulled the bed across the floor; it was so heavy. It was tall for a single bed and would give her enough height to reach the window. Once it was in position she climbed on top, reaching up with her hands and pushed the window open. Her hands then closed around the ledge, hauling her body up. For a moment she almost didn't think she would be strong enough. She was.

"Shit," she hissed as she found herself balancing out of the window, the ledge under her middle with her head outside and legs still inside. Fighting back a scream she wiggled out more, scared that she would fall and break her neck. Carefully she shifted her legs up so she was crouched on the tiny ledge, then she moved again and was sat on it instead. All she had to do now was jump.

In her mind she replayed the memory of Helen jumping from her window, trying to remember how he had absorbed his body for impact. The drop from this window was about the same as the drop from the tree branch, so as she took a deep breath and let herself drop, she bent her legs the way he did and put her arms out to the side for balance, rocking onto her heels as she landed in a crouch. A sigh of relief flew from her lips.

Gunshots could still be heard in the distance and she could picture Helen lying dead somewhere on the woodland floor, but she kept hope when the gunshots continued, showing they still had a target to fire at. And then she followed his last few requests. She took off down the path in front of her, thinking about their kiss.

Her feet pounded against the hard earth again and again as she ran, her breaths harsh and laboured, but she kept going. And that's when the sound of the explosion rocked the ground beneath her feet and left a ringing in her ears. She toppled. Bark and leaves tangled in her russet hair as she tumbled over and over, wincing at the noise in her ears. When she turned back to see what the cause of the deafening noise had been, she gasped in shock. Helen's cabin was in flames.

Frantically she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the sharp pain as her hands scraped across rocks in the floor, slicing open. Turning back she ran again, crying out when she tripped but managing to carry on. When a stitch formed in her side she carried on, moving forward until she emerged from the trees and onto a path. She knew where she was and turned for her home.

If anyone had looked outside their window at that moment they would have seen a crying girl sprinting past, her wild red hair streaming out behind her like the tears that streamed down her face. If they had of looked closer they would have seen the dirt in her hair and on her skin and clothes, the blood on her hands, and the wild look in her eye that only came with losing someone you loved.

Embry slammed the front door open after grabbing the key from under the flowerpot and fumbling with it in the lock. Stumbling through she shut it behind her, then collapsed in a heap on the ground. Sobs ripped from her throat and tears fell from her eyes, her hands stung like a bitch, but all she could think about was Helen. He was the only thing her mind could process. Embry almost couldn't believe how upsetting losing him was. She hadn't known him for long, and he had tried to kill her, and he had killed other people. How she had come to love him, she didn't know. But she had connected to him in a way she thought wouldn't be possible. He seemed to understand things about her even she didn't, and certainly no one else could. He had made her feel so alive.

After what seemed like a long time the tears stopped flowing, but she stayed on the floor, curled up, shaking. She wondered when Mason would be home, then decided it would be better to move before he did. With weak legs she stood and went up the stairs to the bathroom, where she stripped and got into the shower. The warm water soothed her a little, but not too much. When she was finished she left the bathroom, not bothering to cover up as she knew no one was home but her. Even Tiffany was out. So naturally, when she turned the corner and walked into something big and soft, she screamed. Not for the first time in her life, a hand clamped over her mouth cutting off her scream.

"Go to your room and put on some clothes," a husky voice hissed. It sounded so much like Helen that she froze. "Promise I won't look, if you don't look at me." Embry nodded and her captor released her mouth. She was grateful that he had only touched her face, considering she was naked.

Quickly she went to her bedroom and put comfortable jeans and a hoodie. A knock on the door made her look up from running a brush through her hair.

"Can I come in?" That familiar voice asked. She answered yes. As she watched the door start to open, every part of her was hoping that Helen would walk through, but she doubted it. Partly because Helen wouldn't have asked permission to come into her room, and partly because when the hand had clamped over her mouth, it hadn't been gloved. So when Helen stepped around the door, she couldn't have been more surprised.

Jumping up and running towards him, Embry couldn't help the smile that came onto her face. Then suddenly, she stopped, and the smile faltered. Her eyes ran over this man's face. Full pink lips, defined features, deep blue eyes- he was identical to Helen. But his hair was cropped short and styled, and he was dressed in a shirt and jumper combo, with jeans and smart shoes. And most significantly, there wasn't a mask on his face or in his hands. Everything about him screamed Helen, but it wasn't.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" She growled, suddenly growing angry. He raised his hands up by his sides, submissive, stopping by the door. "I asked you a fucking question!" She yelled. The man flinched a little at her words.

"James," he replied. Embry ran through a list in her head of all the James's she knew, but not one of them looked identical to Helen.

"James _who?_ " She demanded, glaring right at him. The more she looked at him the more she was freaked out by how much he looked like him, and the likeliness brought back memories she had already been working to push away. Emotions began to wash over her and she groaned a little as her chest constricted.

"James Otis," he answered a little cautiously, lowering his hands. Embry gasped and moved to her bed, sitting down and putting her head in her hands. "I'm sorry to come here at such a bad time for you. I understand a lot more than you think. I'm here to help you. And I'm sure you've worked out by now that I'm-"

"You're Helen's twin," Embry gasped out. She heard a small chuckle and looked over to the man who was nodding, finally understanding why he looked so alike him. "How did you find me?"

"I followed you."

"Followed me from where?" Embry asked, narrowing her green eyes.

"From the cabin," his husky voice answered. "It was me who caused the explosion." Embry whined and tightened her fists in the bedsheets, trying to take it all in. "I know this is a lot for you to take in, so let me explain." James walked over to her bed and sat down next to her, placing a reassuring hand over hers.

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I certainly enjoyed writing it! I would also like to apologise for updating this rather than 'Secrets,' which needs to be updated. I'm really not inspired to continue that at the moment as it doesn't get enough attention. Drop me a few reviews on that story and it might inspire me! Anyway, thanks for reading and supporting me. Read and review please, TINT XXXXXXXXXXXX**


	14. Keeping Hope

**Hmm… So I might have left this a bit too long. Almost 2 years too long. Oh well, I'm back, with 2 more years' worth of experience in writing. So it may be a little different, but it's still me, still the same ideas, still the same characters you know and love… hopefully.**

 **Forgive me for being a little rusty.**

Embry didn't like having James' hand atop of hers, but knowing she needed to hear what he had to say, she made the choice not to move it, to just go with whatever was happening. Against her chest was the pounding of her heart; over and over again, it slammed on her ribs. It was so loud, she was sure he would be able to hear it. But even if he could, James stayed calm. Remarkably so.

"I've been following Helen for years, since he very first went missing," James eventually said, breaking an awkward silence that had fallen over them both. Embry, who had previously fixed her eyes on her own bedsheets, looked up, still flinching at the resemblance between the boy sat in front of her and the boy she loved, who may or may not be dead. Like Helen, James' eyes were an icy-blue colour, with flecks of silver around the pupil. He hadn't noticed her staring, and continued his story. "We were 14. It was my fault… I'd got caught up in some business that I really shouldn't have. I owed someone money, money that I didn't have. The day I confessed to my brother, I expected him to be angry, but he wasn't. Instead he offered to help me, by selling his paintings."

James stopped talking. A few moments passed, during which Embry noticed how sweaty his hand was getting on hers. More than ever she wanted to move it, but she didn't. She had to listen. Strangely, James didn't seem upset when she looked at him, rather fascinated. "You paint?" He asked suddenly, looking towards her art room, with the door left open. Taken aback, Embry stumbled over her words.

"No, I mean… y-yes. I paint."

"I guess that helps explain it," James muttered, mostly to himself. Part of Embry desperately wanted to ask the question- 'explains what?' - but she had to let him keep talking. "We paid the money back in full. But for some reason, these people, they weren't happy with me. I became a target. They found me one night, in a park, starting beating the shit out of me. I was late home and Helen came looking for me. I shouted for him to stay away when I saw him."

"But he didn't," Embry cut in, already knowing where the story was going.

"Of course he didn't. He was so full of anger, so mad that even I was scared of him. One of the guys went to take him down, but Helen somehow beat him, took his knife, and the rest you can work out. By the time he was done, no one was alive, except me and him. I still remember the way he looked at me, with blood spattered everywhere- his clothes, his face… And all he said was 'let's go home.' But I couldn't. I was so shocked by what I had seen I ran, I called the police, which he heard me do. He ran after me calling my name but I couldn't stop." James broke off then. As he had spoken he had grown faster and faster, but now there were no words left. Finally, he lifted his hand off of Embry's.

She was shaken. The story hadn't come as much of a surprise; she always knew how it was going to end with dead bodies. But still. The thought of Helen as a normal boy, just trying to help his brother, but giving in to his murderous instincts made her shiver. What had turned him so dark? James took a breath, as though he was about to speak again. Embry focussed her attention back on him.

"Helen never came home that night. Within minutes of me walking into my house the police arrived and I had barely even had time to explain it to our parents. They were shocked to find the truth and had a hard time accepting it, but no one could deny what had happened. All throughout the following week they searched for him, but he just couldn't be found. The entire city was on red alert. Soon the news of murders in a nearby city came to light, and the police speculated it was him. But by the time they got there he had already gone. The murders moved across the country, with the smiley face starting to appear frequently. At first I wasn't sure it was him, but then I realised it was, of course it was. Because that smiley face, drawn in blood? It was the symbol of the gang I had become involved with." Embry listened carefully, surprised to hear about the deep meaning of Helen's… signature.

"So how come you're here?" She asked, curious now.

"Two years ago I decided to find him. I never forgave myself for how I reacted. I know I did the right thing, but I always felt as though I betrayed my brother, my twin. I searched up murders, finding one's that were signature of him, in Seattle. One night I just left; I couldn't say goodbye to my parents or they would I ask where I was going, and then they never would have let me go. It took me months to even get close to him. Every time I thought I was near I would find out about a kill somewhere else. Then one day I found him, just on the streets. He saw me at the same time I saw him, and he ran from me. That's how I know he blames me.

"After that he made himself harder to find, but I was getting good. I was predicting his movements, keeping up with them. At one point I considered giving up, but then he came here, and he didn't move on. I wanted to know why, so I searched for him, finding him walking towards the woods one night. I followed him to that cabin, but left before he saw me. Every night I would wait for him to return, and one night, he didn't. I started to think he had moved on when he emerged… with you. But I wasn't the only one watching. An old man with a dog saw you, and he called 911. And that's when I realised I was about to lose Helen, and that you were about to lose your life."

Another silence. This time Embry's mind was racing. How had Helen become so careless that he had been seen? Why had James made the cabin explode? "Carry on," Embry gasped out, needing to hear the end of this crazy story.

"I knew I had some time. I got hold of some gasoline and some matches and ran as fast as I could to the cabin, seeing the police were already there. Then Helen emerged, sprinting for his life, somehow dodging every shot fired in his way. I waited, then saw you run. By that point the police had all abandoned their post on the cabin to chase my brother, so it was easy to do what I had to do. I removed all evidence. And then I came after you."

"And here you are," Embry muttered. "Helen never told me he had a twin."

"That's because he hates me," James replied. "But he seems to quite like you, doesn't he?" Embry didn't know how to react to that. She supposed he was right. It was doubtful Helen had ever done this before, especially from the way he acted around her. "What's your name?"

"Embry," she replied. "But you can call me Em, for short. Helen does." James smiled.

After that, the two started to talk, the words flowing pretty seamlessly. It was strange how alike to Helen James was, and Embry found herself beginning to quite like the boy. He was charming. Just like his brother.

For the most part, James just seemed to want to know everything about Helen, and Embry told him as much as she could. She told him about how they had met, how Helen decided not to kill her, and how he didn't kill anyone the whole time he knew her. As she spoke she fiddled with the ends of her chestnut hair. When she mentioned Helen and his liking for cats, James told her all about the cats they had owned, and how they had one each. Helen's cat was called Mildred. Embry had laughed over that; who would expect a serial killer to have owned a cat called Mildred? James also wanted to see the sketchbook Helen had drawn in when he first spent the day in Embry's house. Embry was curious herself because she never actually saw what he had drawn.

Finding the sketchbook was easy. Helen had left it on the windowsill where he liked to sit, the same one he climbed through. Quickly she grabbed it, then came back to the bed to go through it. When she turned the page, she gasped. It was as though she was looking in a mirror. Helen had drawn her so perfectly, albeit in black and white, that she would be amazed if he hadn't of been watching her whilst he had drawn it.

"He must really like you," James commented, flipping the page to discover this was all that Helen had drawn. "To put himself in danger like he did, to stay here… You've changed him Embry. I can tell."

James left shortly after Embry made food for them both, promising to return the next day, even giving her his phone number. After he was gone, she realised how strange the whole situation was again, and how odd it was that they were already friends. Mason came home later, without Sam, thankfully, with the news that their parents were just going to stay the weekend with their Aunt, because they were having such a lovely time.

That night Embry slept with her window open. There was one thing to leave it unlocked, but leaving it open… it was out of hope. If Helen came by he would see it as an invitation. The only thing that kept her hopeful was the lack of news reports. If they caught him, it would be big news; it would be everywhere. So they clearly hadn't. Embry knew though, that even if Helen was safe, there was no way he was coming back here. Not unless…

Not unless she went with James to look for him.

 **Well there you go. Read and review please.**

 **Lots of love and apologies (for not updating in so long).**

 **TINT xxx**


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